


The Wolves Of Winter

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drama, Endverse!Dean - Freeform, F/M, Sex, Smut, dub con, non con, sex under a spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-05-13 16:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19255171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: He believed she was to blame for Bobby’s death, so she left, even though they’d walked through the apocalypse and out the other side. Now, the world is rebuilding, and Dean has to find his place in it.





	1. There Are No Reruns

_ _

_ 2012 (two years post apocalypse) _

The dial on the radio was dusty as hell but when the radio finally stuttered to life, Y/N brightened, smiling at her triumph. She’d been working on it for weeks, trying to get some sort of signal and she’d done it.

“Well, you did it,” Bobby congratulated her, smiling over the desk from his wheelchair, “don’t know what good it’ll do us but you did it.” Dean grunted from his position on the couch and Y/N scowled, twisting the knob delicately. A crackled signal came through, a dull toned male voice announcing the news from around the world.

What little was left.

_ Chicago’s last stand against the virus has fallen. The last city in America is gone. We will continue to broadcast for as long as we can. _

“Turn it off,” Dean growled, slamming his hand on the couch. “Don’t wanna hear this shit.”

“We need to know if anyone is out there, Dean,” Y/N replied, turning the dial again, searching for another channel.

“Everyone’s gone, Y/N. You should start accepting that.”

“Unlike you, I don’t give up,” she snapped back and Dean got to his feet, hurling his drink across the room. The glass shattered, immediately followed by Bobby’s outraged ‘ _ hey! _ ’ and Y/N flinched, staring at the furious hunter.

“I didn’t give up,” Dean roared, “and look where it got us!” He was shaking from head to toe, fists curling at his sides. Storming across the room, he grabbed the radio, lifting it and sending it the same way as the glass. “I don’t wanna hear what my brother is doing to the world!”

“Sam’s gone, Dean!” Bobby yelled, wheeling around from his side of the desk. “Maybe you need to realize that!”

Dean was in his face the next instant, staring him down. Seconds ticked by; Y/N held her breath, unsure if Dean was on edge enough to actually swing for his pseudo-father. Bobby lifted his chin, eyes fixed on Dean’s.

“If you’re gonna do somethin’, boy,” the older man ground out, “you better do it quick.”

Releasing a shuddering breath, Dean threw Y/N a dirty look, storming off outside, slamming the door on the way. She relaxed, sinking her head into her hands as Bobby reached for the nearly-empty whiskey bottle.

“Let him cool off,” he muttered, inspecting the bottle with dismay. “We’re gonna have to go on a supply run sooner or later. For whiskey if nothin’ else.”

*****

“Still pissed at me?”

Dean looked up from the bed, raising an eyebrow as Y/N slunk into the room, looking a little sheepish. “I wasn’t pissed at you,” he grunted, watching her approach. “I’m pissed at everything.”

“So that’s a yes,” she deduced, sitting on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry. If it’s worth anything at this point.”

He smiled, sitting up and taking her hand, kissing her knuckles softly. “You’re worth everything.”

Y/N took a breath, hesitating on her next words; Dean waited patiently. “I lost him too, you know.” His eyes squeezed tightly closed but she didn’t stop speaking. “And I know it still hurts, Dean. You don’t have to hide that around me. Or Bobby.”

“I can’t show any weakness if I’m gonna kill the Devil,” Dean muttered, shaking his head, releasing her hand and looking away. “And protect you.”

“We protect each other,” she insisted, grabbing his chin. “We always have. And I’m not about to stop. But you can’t bottle this all up inside, Dean. You  _ have _ to acknowledge it.” His jaw shook with how hard he clenched it and Y/N let go, shifting further away. “I’m gonna go sleep downstairs tonight,” she whispered.

“No,” Dean pleaded quietly, “don’t… don’t.”

Y/N swallowed, closing her eyes. “Do you have a reason for me to stay?”

He leaned forward, cupping her cheek, drawing her into a deep kiss. Licking into her mouth, Dean knew he was winning the argument when she moaned in response, raising one hand to touch his face. “Is this good enough?”

“It shouldn’t be,” she murmured, brushing the tip of her nose against his before kissing him again.

Dean coaxed her back onto the bed, running his hands along her sides, cupping her breasts as he kept kissing her breathless. Y/N rolled underneath him, not stopping him when he started to unbutton her stolen flannel, exposing her tits. Her nipples hardened in the cool air - Dean seized on one of them, worrying at it with his teeth and tongue.

Arching under him, Y/N mewled needily, running her fingers through his short hair as he undressed her, leaving her in her panties as he fumbled for his pants. He didn’t bother with his shirt, letting Y/N tug it up to get at the scarred skin underneath, her nails scratching over ticklish spots that made him flinch.

Dragging her panties to one side, Dean swept the tip of his cock through her wetness, groaning as her heat enveloped him. Y/N’s hands clenched on his lower back and her legs lifted, giving him a deeper angle in which to penetrate her. 

“Dean,” she gasped, tipping her head back as pleasure washed over her. He wasn’t gentle or slow - once her body had fully accepted him, Dean quickly found a pace, slamming into her hard enough to make the headboard slam into the wall.

Bobby would most likely make a comment about defiling his house later on but in that moment, neither of the tired hunters cared.

All they had was each other.

Y/N came with a throaty groan, her heels digging into his ass. Dean wasn’t far behind, pouring all of his frustration and anger into her smaller body, his hip bones bruising her thighs with the ferocity of his thrusts.

His seed stained the sheets underneath her when he pulled away, dropping down beside her. She wanted to say something, get him to talk but she didn’t have a clue where to start. Any intrusive questioning would make him close off and Y/N had learned not to push him anymore.

Dean wasn’t the same man he’d been before.

“Love you,” he mumbled, pulling her backward against his chest. Her whispered reply was almost lost in the rustle of the sheets but the slight clench of his arms around her waist let her know he heard. She didn’t say anything else, listening to Dean’s breathing even out, his soft snoring informing her when he was asleep.

Eventually, she’d join him in slumber.

She just had to stop crying first.

*****

_ 2012 (Six months later) _

Killing monsters and other evil creatures was easy and part of the life before she had genuinely come to miss.

Killing bunnies was so much harder.

Y/N hadn’t been much of a game hunter prior to the apocalypse and even now, she struggled with the bow and arrow. The three rabbits that had been her victims that afternoon still tugged at her heartstrings, even though she’d stuffed them into her satchel so she didn’t have to look at them.

Walking back to the camp took a long time - she’d almost gotten lost at one point but found her way back to the marked path. The area was safe, as safe as it could be anyway, having been scoped out before they made camp three weeks previous.

Enjoying the sunshine, Y/N took her time, listening to the birds in the trees and the scampering of other small creatures that wouldn’t be her dinner tonight. Since humanity had fallen, animal-kind had flourished and she kinda hated that she agreed with Lucifer’s stance on humans being the literal worst thing for the planet.

That didn’t excuse what he’d done, how he’d used Sam as a puppet.

Thinking of Sam led to thinking of Bobby and inevitably, Dean. Losing the only father figure she’d known in such a brutal way had left her traumatised and it hadn’t helped when Dean had blamed her for not checking the perimeter properly. Despite Castiel insisting they had no way of stopping it, Bobby’s death had weight heavily on Y/N’s shoulders and in the six months since, Dean had become more and more distant.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew he was seeking company elsewhere, judging by the lack of warmth on his side of the tiny bed they’d been sharing.

Or not sharing.

The campsite came into view, the white tents stark against the woodland and Y/N slowed to a stop, seeing a few people milling around, frowning when she spotted Dean emerging from a tent that wasn’t theirs.

Her heart dropped into her belly when she saw Victoria, one of the other women in the camp, sliding her hands down the front of his shirt to button it. The smile on his face made her stomach churn and when he leaned in to kiss her goodbye, Y/N thought she might puke.

It was one thing to suspect it. Entirely another to see it.

Dean hadn’t been that tender with her in months.

Tears were already tracking their way down her cheeks as she stomped into the camp, bypassing Victoria’s tent and attempting to avoid Dean.

No such luck.

“Y/N!”

Her name was barked across the small clearing between the tents and the communal area and Y/N winced, closing her eyes and stopping dead. She didn’t want to talk to him - she didn’t even want to look at him.

“What the hell were you doing out there?”

Rage she hadn’t expected made her turn on her heel, hauling the satchel off of her shoulder and into his chest. Dean had the grace to look surprised by the sudden anger on her face. “I was hunting,” she snarled out, the force of the satchel against his chest pushing him back a step.

“You shouldn’t go off on your own,” Dean countered, his voice soft - it only managed to piss her off more.

“I can take care of myself,” Y/N spat, snorting derisively as she jerked her head toward Victoria’s tent. “And apparently, so can you.” He glanced back, wide-eyed, the denial already about to spill off of his tongue but Y/N wasn’t hanging around for it. “You’ve already found somewhere else to sleep, Dean. Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

She was crying and she hated it, but the tears were coming thick and fast with her anger and Dean narrowed his eyes at her.

“If you hate me so goddamn much,” he breathed, “why don’t you just fucking leave?”

It felt like a gunshot to the belly and Y/N lifted her chin, unwilling to break the eye contact. Dean stared her down, still clutching the satchel of dead rabbits. The hatred in his eyes broke her resolve and she took a step back, wondering why she’d even stayed this long.

He didn’t stop her when she walked away.

No one stopped her when she walked out of camp before dark, her meager belongings in a small rucksack. The world had gone to hell.

And Dean Winchester could go with it.


	2. This Unbearable Creature

_ 2014 _

The wind rustled through the trees over Castiel’s head as he waited for Dean to answer the door to his cabin. It wouldn’t surprise him if a woman answered, probably in a partial state of undress; Dean had practically slept with every woman in the small camp.

Something glass smashed on the other side of the door, followed by a string of curses and Cas took the chance, grabbing the handle and walking in. Dean stood by the table, broken glass in one hand, his palm bleeding.

“Everything okay?” Castiel asked, tilting his head.

There was a glare on Dean’s face when he looked up. “Just fuckin’ peachy. What do you want?”

“It’s not a social call.”

“Good,” Dean snapped, tossing the glass onto the counter and dropping himself into his chair, grabbing a rag from the table to clean his wound. Cas watched him for a moment, closing the door and stepping further into the other man’s space. “So?”

“We’ve got a lead on the Colt,” Castiel mumbled, running his fingers over the table, frowning at the various sheets of paper and photographs on the tabletop. “What were you doing?”

Dean ignored the question, sitting up with a pointed look. “What’s the lead?”

The former angel scanned the documents Dean had been looking at - old newspaper clippings and notes he recognized from John Winchester’s journal. In between a report about the first major disaster following Lucifer’s rising, there was photograph Castiel knew he’d seen before.

His fingers shook when he pulled it free, the grief he’d never quite gotten over making his eyes sting. “Y/N,” he breathed, staring down at the familiar face, holding the photo in one hand and stroking his fingers over her features. The picture was faded, obviously from before everything.

Dean had kept it.

“What’s the lead, Cas?” Dean’s voice was hard, an edge of danger that the other man chose to ignore.

“You’ve kept this,” Castiel murmured, holding the photo up and meeting Dean’s eyes. “She’s been gone for two years.”

“I can count,” Dean snarled, snatching the photo away from him. “Either tell me the lead or get the fuck out.”

Cas pursed his lips together, nodding slowly. “Very well. We know where the Colt is. And where Lucifer will be.”

Dean spared the photo a glance before he tossed back in among the papers and clippings he’d been studying. It was self-flagellation, looking back, rethinking all the mistakes he’d made. The worst one being letting his brother say yes and the second one letting her walk away from him.

“I doubt it is any comfort,” the other man muttered, “but she’s probably at peace.”

He was right and it took everything Dean had not to swing for him. The whiskey he’d been chugging since dawn was making his stomach churn and he could smell himself. God knows how he’d ended up in charge of all this. All he remembered was pain and misery.

“Get everyone in here,” Dean ground out, clenching his fists at his sides. “I want a full rundown on the information we’ve got and a plan for attack by nightfall.”

“This is a suicide mission,” Castiel mused, shaking his head, his eyes narrowing. “You -”

Dean was in his face before he could finish, squaring up to his full height, even if was only an inch more than the former celestial being. “Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?”

“Not deliberately.”

“Get out.”

“Dean -”

“I said, get out!” Dean roared and Castiel sighed, stepping back with his hands up in surrender. “Try focusing on what the real fucking problem is for a fucking change.” He turned his back on his old friend, his  _ only _ friend, and stormed back to his seat, grabbing the bottle of whiskey again.

Cas was gone when he looked back.

It didn’t matter what his friend thought. Yeah, the fight would likely result in Dean’s death. But after everything?

He’d stopped caring.

*****

_ 2016 _

An abandoned town in Utah had been their home for a week. The battered old Ford they’d found in Nashville had gotten them this far and Dean had decided it was a good spot to forage for supplies. It was just him and Cas after everything - they’d lost every other survivor they’d known to the Devil.

But he was gone. Sam with him. The world was starting to recover, people starting to rebuild. Not that Dean felt he had anything left to fix.

Now, it was just killing the remaining Croats, hunting demons and creatures where they found them. At least, that was what Dean told himself; in reality, he was waiting for his Blaze of Glory, his road back to heaven, or hell.

He didn’t really care anymore.

They were lucky enough to discover one of the lesser looted Walmarts near the house they were squatting in, allowing for fresh clothing and a complete restock. Neither of them spoke very much, separating to search the store thoroughly for anything they could use.

Heading out of Utah into Wyoming, they started to see signs of life. Camps littered the border, along with uniformed soldiers, which made both Dean and Cas agree to stick to the back roads. Even if the government was only just rebuilding, they didn’t want any involvement.

It was nearly dark when Castiel spoke, making Dean jump as he broke the silence.

“Where are we going?” the former angel asked.

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Nowhere,” he replied tersely, not having an actual answer. He’d toyed with the idea of returning to Kansas, then to Sioux Falls, but there was nothing left in either of those places for him. There was nothing left anywhere if he was being honest with himself.

“So we don’t have a plan?”

“We finished the plan,” Dean grunted, “we won.”

Castiel fell quiet for a few seconds, looking down at his hands. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could possibly say.

“Don’t you want to find somewhere and try to have a life?” Cas pressed and Dean growled, opening his mouth to berate his friend -

A figure appeared in the road and he slammed on the brakes, argument dismissed. The car swerved on the damp road surface, avoiding the woman stood in the way, before coming to a stop in the ditch at the side of the road.

Without waiting for Cas, Dean got out, heading over to the woman, who had now slumped to the floor. She was covered in blood, her clothes were rags; he tore off his jacket and tossed it around her shoulders.

The scream she emitted was ear-piercing and Dean jumped back, holding up his hands to try and assure her he was friendly.

“Hey, hey,” Cas approached carefully as Dean reached for the frightened woman again, “it’s okay.” Dean touched her shoulder and she flinched but didn’t scream.

“Y -” she swallowed, wiping blood from her mouth, “You’re not with them.”

“Them?” Cas parroted and her eyes darted to him.

“They… they took me from my camp. My husband…” Her breathing was labored, the crunching sound of it telling both men that she had at least one cracked rib. Up close in the waning light, they could see the bruises littering her skin, evidence of more than one kind of assault. “They killed everyone.”

“We should get her off of the road,” Cas muttered. “There was a house a few miles back -”

“No, no!” The woman lurched to her feet, shaking her head. She instantly stumbled into Dean’s arms, sobbing heavily. “Don’t take me back!”

“We’re not gonna take you anywhere,” Dean soothed, trying to get her to look at him. “What’s your name?”

“J-Julia,” she managed before her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out. Dean grunted under her weight, just about keeping her head from hitting the concrete.

Between the two of them, Dean and Cas got her into the back of the car, turning on the narrow road and heading back the way they’d come. They didn’t talk about what Julia had said, only speaking to confirm the safety of the house they’d commandeered.

Settling Julia in one of the bedrooms, Dean headed out to bring in some of their supplies, leaving Cas with the injured woman. He cleaned her wounds, working in silence, although the more he uncovered, the worse her prognosis became.

Her lips were cracked and dry when she stirred, eyes bloodshot as they opened, fixing on Cas. “I… I wasn’t dreaming,” she rasped and he looked up, shaking his head.

“We found you. You’re safe now.” He hoped that would assure her but he knew in his heart this woman wouldn’t live through the night. Julia managed a weak smile, closing her eyes again. “Where were you?”

“Fr -” she mumbled, choking as she tried to speak. “Him and his men… there’s too many of them. They take what they want. From anyone.”

Castiel wasn’t naive to the monstrosity of humans and it seemed some of the less savory survivors had seized on the advantage of an apocalypse to brutalize and harm others. He didn’t want to imagine what this woman had suffered through.

“You’re safe now,” he repeated and she smiled again.

“I will be,” she whispered, almost like she was acknowledging that she’d be dead soon, and at peace. At least, Castiel hoped she would be.

She passed out again only seconds later.


	3. A Man You Can Dispose Of

The flames licked at the wood hungrily, saturating it in seconds. Dean stood a few meters away, his expression grim - Julia had passed away before the sky had even started to brighten. Beside him, Castiel watched the flames, his face closely mirroring Dean’s.

“We should get moving,” Dean mumbled, turning his back on the burning corpse. “Before her friends show up.”

Castiel frowned, turning to follow the other man. “We’re not going to do anything?”

“About what?” Dean’s tone was dismissive and Cas froze on the spot, staring at his back like he’d grown a second head out of it. Sensing that he’d stopped, Dean looked back, taken aback by the look on his friend’s face.

“What happened to this woman -”

“Not my paygrade,” Dean growled, dismissing Cas with a wave of his hand. “They’re rebuilding society, aren’t they? Let them deal with it.”

“People are being hurt -”

A loud sigh cut the older man off again and Dean turned his back. “People are always being hurt, Cas.”

“Why are you so emotionally detached?”

The empty laughter that came from Dean was enough to make Castiel draw back in alarm. “Stop psychoanalyzing me.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas smirked. “I stopped trying to do that years ago. Roundabout the same time you stopped being a good man.” Dean’s shoulders tensed and Cas knew he should have stopped there but he was too angry with the version of his friend that stood in front of him. “You stopped being a good man when you laid blame on Y/N for Bobby’s death. When she walked out -”

“Stop talking,” Dean roared, lurching from the bottom step of the house. His fist connected with Castiel’s jaw, sending the other man tumbling to the floor. In seconds, Dean had him pinned, landing blows on his face that probably could have had more power behind them if he wasn’t reacting on pure rage.

Cas fought back, managing to connect his fist with Dean’s temple and Dean rolled away, panting heavily. The flames crackled behind them; Cas got to his feet, spitting blood onto the floor. “You’re going to push me away too? After everything?”

“After what?” Dean yelled back, standing straight. “You’ve been following me around since we took down Lucifer. You’re just as fucking lost as I am, Cas! I’m just smart enough to realize I should have died back there!”

“Well, you didn’t,” Castiel seethed, looking more like the angel he’d once been with the fire lighting him from behind. “We’re still here.”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I wish you weren’t.”

The hurt on the other man’s face was palpable but Dean turned his back, stalking off into the darkness of the woods. He didn’t care where he was going - he just needed to be alone. Castiel called his name, but he didn’t follow and a small part of Dean hated that.

It would be better if Cas left. Safer for him.

All Dean could do was destroy people.

*****

He’d been walking for hours when it started to rain. Finding a spot that was sheltered, Dean sat down on a tree stump, looking up at the thick trees above him. It would be easy to find his way back and he hoped Cas wouldn’t keep prodding at him when he returned.

Leaning back against the tree behind him, he sighed and closed his eyes. Bone-deep weariness kept him upright and the sound of the rainfall slowly eased him into a light doze.

He woke up with a gun in his face.

Behind the weapon, a man in a baseball cap and a parka jacket glared at him, his finger on the trigger. “Good morning,” he drawled and Dean’s eyes darted up to see the pale blue sky staring back at him. “Wanna tell us what you’re doin’ out here?”

Dean cleared his throat, raising his hands. He didn’t have any weapons on him - probably an oversight on his part - and he was entirely at this man’s mercy. Twigs crunched either side of him and his heart fell a little more. Three others were with his captor and even Dean wouldn’t take those odds.

“I got lost,” he blurted out, eyes going wide when the gun came a little closer. “I was traveling with some folks and got separated during the storm.”

The man looked doubtful; he cast a glance to one of his companions, who shrugged uselessly at him. He took a step back, lowering and disarming his pistol. “Lost, eh?” Dean nodded, swallowing nervously, lowering his hands as the guy chuckled. “I’m Gareth,” he offered.

“Dean,” Dean answered honestly, taking Gareth’s hand when he offered it to him. “Sorry if I was in your territory, I’ll, er, I’ll find my way back to the road.”

“Trust me, friend,” Gareth grinned, “you won’t find them. But we’ve got a place you can stay. Guarantee you’ll like it.”

Interest piqued, Dean looked between the four men, wondering if he should admit that he’d left Castiel behind at the house. Although they might not take too kindly to the lie. He supposed, if the place they took him to wasn’t too far, he could make a break for it.

“Sure,” Dean smirked, “sounds awesome.”

*****

It was an hour’s walk back to wherever Gareth and the other men had come from. Dean answered whatever questions they threw at him as best he could or giving a dumb ‘ _ I don’t know’ _ when he didn’t want to disclose the truth.

Their camp was huge. It was in what looked like an old college campus, half the buildings overgrown and some even crumbling as they walked through. Signs of life were few at the early hour but Dean could spot people inside some of the better kempt buildings.

“Boss will wanna see you,” Gareth muttered, sending the other three men off, leaving them alone. “He likes to meet anyone we find. All adds to the community. Many hands make light work and all that.”

Dean smiled as convincingly as he could, following Gareth toward a building at the far end of the campus. It was huge, possibly offices or administration once upon a time - now it seemed to house the leader of this so-called community.

Maybe Julia hadn’t come from here.

“Wait here,” Gareth instructed, leaving Dean stood in the foyer, looking around at the damaged walls. Bullet holes and slashes riddled the walls, evidence of a fight that had happened god knows how long ago.

A door closed somewhere in the building and Dean turned, listening for footsteps.

Gareth returned, grinning at him. “This way,” he jerked his head back the way he’d come, “c’mon.”

Dean followed obediently, keeping a few paces behind the other man as he led him toward an office with faded letters on the door. They were too damaged to make out more than a few vowels - Gareth opened the door, revealing a plush office on the other side.

“Francis,” Gareth greeted, “this is Dean.”

The man behind the huge oak desk stood up. He was tall, maybe an inch or so shorter than Dean, with short hair that was shorn close on each side. A thick scar covered his throat, a wound that looked like it should have been fatal; it was only adding to the menacing aura the guy gave out.

Dean was instantly on guard.

“Dean!” Francis walked around the desk, his burly frame looking odd even in the huge room. “Welcome!” He threw out his hand in offering and Dean eyed it like one would eye a lion coming toward them. Slowly, he accepted it, squeezing a little harder than was probably necessary.

“Hey.”

Francis’ smile was disarming and he cocked his head to the side as Dean snatched his hand back. “You look familiar.”

“I have that kind of face,” Dean dismissed, deciding to keep his last name to himself. This guy didn’t seem like a demon but there was no harm in being cautious. “Nice place you got here.”

The change of subject didn’t go unnoticed but the other man simply grinned, looking over Dean’s shoulder to Gareth, who lingered by the door. “That’ll be all, Gareth.” Gareth exited the room, closing the door behind him. Francis stepped back, leaning on the desk as he regarded Dean curiously.

“Tell me,” he started, reaching out to pluck an apple from the bowl on the desk, “how did you end up in the middle of the woods in Wyoming?” Tossing the apple, he smirked when Dean caught it. “Good reflexes.”

“My dad was in the military,” Dean mumbled; Francis’ eyebrows raised at that and Dean knew he had given too much already. “Plus, a few years as high school quarterback helped.”

The other man laughed. “Well, we can always use more able-bodied men around here.”

“My friends -” Dean started but Francis held up a hand.

“Don’t worry about them,” he insisted. “My scouts will pick them up and bring them back here.” He got to his feet, nodding at the apple. “You can eat that, you know. I imagine it’s been a while since you had anything fresh.”

Eyeing the apple nervously, Dean considered his options. Not eating it would be rude and right now, he didn’t need to make more enemies. On the other hand, this guy might be trying to kill him.

“It’s not poisoned,” Francis chuckled, picking another apple from the same bowl and biting into it, chomping loudly. “People are a resource, Dean. I don’t kill without a reason.”

The apple was sweeter than anything Dean had tasted in months. He couldn’t help but moan as he savored the taste, missing the satisfied smile on Francis’ face. The other man strode past him, opening the door and gesturing toward the corridor.

“How about I show you around?”


	4. Kingdom Of Blood

The campus was far more extensive than the small part Dean had seen on the way in. Beyond the office buildings, every building that could be converted for sleeping quarters had been, and as the morning wore on, more and more people emerged.

“How many people do you have here?” Dean wondered aloud as Francis led him down to the fields.

“Last count? About three hundred,” Francis replied, almost smugly. He drew to a stop by a long low fence, pointing to the women and men already at work in the field. “We produce all our own fresh food, like the apples. There’s an orchard beyond this field. The climate here is good for growing.”

It didn’t look so bad. No one was being forced to work from what Dean could see and the crop seemed to be flourishing. “You trade too?” he asked out of curiosity and Francis nodded.

“Some things we can’t grow or hunt,” he sighed, leaning against the fence. “Medicines, textiles. We’ve cleared out the stores around here for miles.”

Dean nodded, turning as he heard a high-pitched squeal. Several children ran past, obviously playing a game of catch and he tried to calm his heart rate. Screams always had him on edge - it was conditioned into him.

Francis laughed as the children ran on. “We’ve got several families here,” he pointed out, “and the children all get an education in what they need to know to survive.”

“Hey, if algebra is out, then the apocalypse did something right,” Dean quipped, smirking at his own joke. The other man smiled, tipping his head in agreement. “You got teachers here?”

“That’s down to the women, like the cooking and cleaning,” Francis dismissed, watching Dean carefully. “We’ve worked hard to create a haven in the aftermath of everything. Everyone here is happy, doing what they’re supposed to be doing.”

The statement made Dean’s stomach churn uncomfortably but years of acting like someone else had schooled his poker face. He grinned widely, nodding at the other male. “Hell,” he chuckled, “sounds better than anything I’ve ever had.”

A smirk crawled across Francis’ face, letting Dean know he’d said the right thing. “How’d you survive out there, on your own?”

“I wasn’t on my own,” Dean answered honestly. “In the beginning, there was me and my brother but he… he died. And then everyone else just -” He sighed, shaking his head, trying not to think of all the people he’d lost.

Trying not to think of her.

“You lost your woman,” Francis deduced.

Dean snorted at himself. “Was my own damn fault. No changing it now.” He focused on Francis, narrowing his eyes. “You lost people?”

“A few. I’ve been luckier than most.” Clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder, Francis gestured in the direction the children had run. “Why don’t we find you a space and you can meet some of the others?” Dean nodded, keeping the smile on his face and his doubts locked in the back of his head.

If this was where Julia had escaped from, it wouldn’t be long before he saw it.

*****

The longer Dean spent with Francis, the more he disliked him. As they toured the campus, it became apparent that the entire place was a mantopia. Men outnumbered women two-to-one and although there seemed to be genuinely happy families, it was clear that women were treated as possessions. There wasn’t a single male in the place that didn’t act like a king.

But Dean had to pretend to be like that if he had any hope of not getting killed.

“There’s one more thing I want to show you, if you’re interested,” Francis informed him as they came to stop by a large dormitory. “I like you, Dean. You’re the same as me.” It took everything Dean had not to scoff at that remark - they were nothing alike. “I think you’re going to like it here, so I’d like to show you one of the perks of this new world I’m creating.”

God, the guy was so far up his own ass. Of course assholes like this would survive the end of the world.

“Can I ask you a question?” Francis leaned against the door, looking back at him with amusement in his eyes; Dean nodded, keeping a straight face. “How long has it been since you’ve touched a woman?” The other man paused, watching him closely. “Sexually?”

The inquiry flustered him and Dean stuttered, shrugging his shoulders. After Y/N, he’d fucked his way into every bed he could, filling the emptiness in his belly with meaningless sex. But in the time since he’d put the Devil down for good, Dean hadn’t so much as touched himself.

There was nothing that could fill the darkness inside him anymore.

“I thought as much,” Francis mused, pushing a little harder on the door. “One of the things you earn here is companionship. It’s not all families we take in here. And men have needs. If those needs aren’t sated, they fight. Keeping the peace is important.”

Dean didn’t like where this was going but he followed Francis into the building nonetheless. It was dark inside the corridor they stepped into, the large atrium allowing the sounds from beyond to filter through. Each and every noise was obscene pornographic and Dean’s stomach churned with a mixture of disgust and arousal that he didn’t even want to start analyzing.

“Women have a place. They’ve always had a place,” Francis went on, keeping pace with Dean as he led him through the atrium and into the south wing of the building. “In this world, we can keep order and restore the natural hierarchy.”

Obviously this guy had never watched a nature documentary before the apocalypse. In most species, the female was the superior animal. Dean preferred equality for everyone but he wasn’t about to voice that opinion.

Not when he was standing in what was apparently a whorehouse and a man with significantly more power than he possessed was spouting a rhetoric that belonged in the middle ages.

“Any single woman we save is giving the option to serve us in this manner, if we deem her to be to the right standard.”

Dean was gonna puke. The sliver of arousal he’d felt at hearing the sexual noises was completely eclipsed by disgust at what Francis was preaching. What the hell was the right standard in this guy’s eyes?

Francis stopped by the first door on the corridor beyond the atrium where the noises were louder. It was ajar and Dean could see the girl inside - she was barely legal, blonde hair strewn across the pillows as the man on top of her grunted loudly.

“They… they wanna do this?” he asked quietly, unable to tear his eyes away to his own shame. 

“Of course,” Francis laughed, “this is  _ easier _ for them. They’re fed, they’re kept safe - they have warm beds to sleep in.”

“And if they say no?” Dean hesitated as a dark expression crossed the other man’s face.

“They don’t,” he responded. “This is how things are supposed to be. Women are our property, Dean.”

The urge to vomit grew stronger and Dean turned away, covering his lap with his hands, although there wasn’t anything to hide. It was easier if Francis thought he was uncomfortable because he was horny.

Laughing under his breath, Francis directed him back to the front door. “If you want to stay and work, this could all be yours, Dean. It’s practically a utopia.” Dean remained silent, almost shuffling behind him, unsure what to do.

He just couldn’t shake the wrong feeling about the entire place. And coupled with what had happened to Julia...

Cas’ voice in his head reminded him that he’d once been a good man and that he wouldn’t walk away from people that needed help.

Francis was watching him, waiting for his decision as they stood outside the dormitory, the fresh spring air filled with the scent of flowers. “I promise you, Dean. This place is safe. It’s the start of something great.”

“You need an answer right now?” Dean attempted, meeting the other man’s eyes.

“No,” Francis chuckled, “it’s not an offer with an expiry date. People come and go all the time.” Dean doubted that was true but he smiled anyway. “Why don’t you get some rest and we can meet up before the evening meal?”


	5. Well Now You See Me

Once Francis had left him to take care of  _ ‘personal business’ _ that Dean didn’t want any details on, he decided to explore a little further, getting as far from the last dormitory as he could. He wanted to find out more about this place, although he didn’t expect he’d get any answers from the residents.

Most of them were avoiding him anyway. By the time he’d made it past the fields back to where they’d come in, he still hadn’t spoken to anyone.

Spotting Gareth and the other three men he’d met that morning, Dean grinned and jogged over to them, catching Gareth’s attention with a call of his name.

“Hey, Dean!” The older man grinned, giving him a wave. “How’d the tour go?”

Dean nodded as he slowed, coming to a stop beside the four. “Yeah,” he smirked, “this is some place you got here.”

One of the other men chuckled, touching the rim of his cap. “If I’d known this was the heaven waitin’ for us after judgement day, I wouldn’t have bothered with church every Sunday.” The other three laughed and Dean kept the smile on his face, wishing he could punch the asshole.

“You thinkin’ of stayin’?” Gareth asked.

“My friends are still out there,” Dean muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“We’re headin’ out this afternoon to find ‘em,” another of the men piped up. “We’ll get ‘em back here safe.”

Alarm made Dean’s back go rigid. “Great,” he nodded, gritting his teeth together, “but listen, there’s one of them, Castiel -” All four men perked up, listening carefully. “He’s skittish. Seen a lot. PTSD. He’s about this high,” Dean pulled his hand up to his temple, “dark hair, blue eyes, looks like a hippie.” He paused, chewing his lip. “And he’s probably stoned.”

Gareth smirked. “We’ll find him.”

“Just tell him that ‘Dean said it’s safe and that it won’t end up like Poughkeepsie’.” Dean laughed, shaking his head like it was some in-joke. “Man, that was a wild weekend.”

“We’re not heading out for an hour or so yet,” Gareth offered. “Where did Francis stick ya?”

Dean’s eyes went wide until he caught on, laughing a little nervously. “Oh, dormitory C. It was…” He faltered, looking either way, unable to remember what direction it was. “Crap.”

“I’m dormitory B,” one of the other men offered up. “How about I walk you over? Name’s Toombes.” He stuck out his hand and Dean took it, shaking firmly. “You can meet the missus. I think I got some beer.”

It was bizarre, the way the men acted and it was everything Dean could do not to ask them anything about the apparent sexual slavery occuring. God only know how these men treated their wives. “Sure, sounds great.”

Waiting for Toombes, Dean kept his senses on high alert, although he felt drained. His night sleeping upright on a log had made his back ache and after the walk around the extensive campus, he could use a full body massage.

He shuddered when he realized he could probably get one.

“So,” Dean started as they headed away from Gareth and the other two men, “how long have you been here?”

By the look of him, Toombes couldn’t have been much younger than Dean himself. “About five years. I was part of the original camp.”

“And you like it?”

Toombes looked at him suspiciously. “What’s not to like, man? We’re fed, we’re safe -” Was he intentionally parroting Francis’ words? “My kids get to grow up in a world knowing where they belong.” The mention of children made Dean fall silent. “Francis is weird,” Toombes continued, “but he’s doing what’s best for everyone.”

He was hiding something but Dean didn’t press, following the other man toward the dormitories that he remembered seeing earlier on in the day. They rounded the first large block of apartments, entering the unlocked door. There were people chatting in the hallways; a blonde woman perked up when they walked in, abruptly ending her conversation to run across the corridor, jumping Toombes with a high-pitched giggle.

“You’re back early!” she exclaimed.

“We’re heading out again later on,” Toombes murmured, kissing her chastely. “Melody, I want you to meet Dean. Dean, this is my wife, Melody.”

“Nice to meet you,” Melody sang, her eyes sparkling. It was almost as if she was high. Her gaze went to her husband, a little of the shine in her expression disappearing. “You need to speak to Jonathan. He’s picking on Amelia again.”

Toombes chuckled, pushing a strand of hair behind his wife’s ear. “They’re just playing. Boys will be boys, sweetheart.”

Melody straightened, smiling brightly. “Okay.” Dean frowned - that was odd. The way she just dropped it, like Toombes’ words were law and everything was gonna be fine. “Are we going to communal tonight?”

“Oh, that’s dinner,” Toombes explained, glancing back at Dean. “Once a week, we all eat together. Community spirit and all that.”

Dean nodded, giving the other man a tight smile. Nothing about this place was making him feel good, despite how idyllic it had seemed on the surface. “Dormitory C, is it that big building over there?” He gestured back the way he came.

Toombes grinned. “Sure thing, pal. We’ll see you at dinner, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Dean grunted, keeping the smile on his face as he backed away, only letting it fall when he was outside and away from prying eyes. Looking over at his supposed new home, Dean hesitated. He hadn’t exactly slept and he needed to be on guard. No one seemed to be in any immediate danger from what he’d seen and he might be able to get some more information on what had happened to Julia if he played dumb.

Striding across the walkway between the two buildings, Dean avoided anyone else as he made his way to the room Francis had given him.

With any luck, he might make it out alive.

*****

“How are you finding the campus, Dean?” Francis asked, slouched in a large leather chair, one hand resting on the table and the other cradling a beer. “Not getting lost?”

Dean smirked, swigging at his own beer. “I’ll be honest, I slept most of the afternoon.”

Francis chuckled, opening his mouth to say something else, only to stop, a smile spreading over his face. “There she is.” His eyes lit up and Dean frowned, turning to see what had suddenly made the other man so happy.

The lead weight that dropped into his stomach didn’t take him by surprise as much as seeing her face after so long. He couldn’t find words, watching her saunter towards their bench, a smile stretching her perfect lips. Her hair was longer, her face a little rounder - there was a glow in her cheeks that turned the lead weight to nausea when she bypassed him and sat herself right in Francis’ lap.

“Who’s your new friend?” she purred, her mouth against his cheek as she gave Dean a sideways glance. There was no recognition and Dean thought he might puke. Francis laughed again, catching her chin in his hand.

“This is Dean,” he murmured, dragging his fingers down her throat, drawing Dean’s gaze to silvery scars that criss-crossed her skin. The hand went further south and Dean followed it, averting his eyes when Francis’ hand disappeared out of sight and obviously under the dark boho-style skirt she was wearing.

_ Y/N _ , the voice in his head was a whisper but Dean kept his mouth shut.

She wouldn’t have forgotten him. Not after what he’d done.

“He’s going to be staying with us for a while,” Francis instructed her. “Possibly permanently.”

Her eyes lit up as she smiled slyly, leaning in so Dean couldn’t hear her or see her speak. Francis’ expression changed, neutral and giving nothing away; Dean trembled in his seat, wondering if she was about to give him up.

He honestly wouldn’t blame her.

Chuckling, Francis patted her thigh under the long skirt, withdrawing his hand. “We’ll see, precious,” he murmured, capturing Y/N’s cheek with his hand to kiss her, long and deep. Dean’s stomach churned a little more but he kept his poker face on, clenching his fist against his pants leg, out of sight of his hosts.

Y/N slid from the other man’s lap, skulking toward Dean, not saying a word. Her smile was almost predatory and Dean shuddered, forgetting himself as he watched her sashay from the room.

“Isn’t she something?” Francis asked, getting Dean’s attention again. He nodded, struggling to form words with how dry his mouth was. “She was half-dead when I found her, cornered by some Croats. Been with me ever since.” A cruel smirk made Dean shift uncomfortably. “Best cocksucker I ever had.”

Dean coughed unexpectedly, covering it with his beer. He closed his eyes as he drank, trying to rid himself of the horrific mental image.

It didn’t help that he knew just how good Y/N was at that particular sexual act.

“She likes you,” Francis continued, leaning forward with his arms on the table. “I think you should consider staying. It’s safe here. Everything a man needs.”

Before Dean could even start to formulate an answer, the door to the large hall opened and Gareth strode in, heading straight for the table where Francis and Dean sat. The other men and women in the hall quietened, all eyes on their leader as Gareth approached.

“We caught someone breaking through into the fields,” Gareth said, leaning over the table to try and limit the amount of eavesdroppers. “Simon dropped him before we could get anything out of him but he matches the description of your friend.” His eyes slid to Dean, who blinked in surprise.

“Very well,” Francis tossed back the rest of his beer and got to his feet, sparing Dean a glance and a smile, “c’mon. Let’s go and see if it is your friend.”


	6. Just Remember, No "I" In Team

They’d taken Castiel to the gym on the far side of the campus, keeping him locked in the equipment cage that had long since stopped being for that use. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face when he laid eyes on his unconscious friend, confirming his identity.

“He didn’t attack anyone, did he?” Feigning concern in his voice was something Dean could pull off flawlessly and not one of the men seemed to pick up on his theatrics. Gareth shook his head and Dean nodded in relief. “That’s good. Cas is… he’s the only person I knew from before.”  _ More lies _ . “He’s always had substance abuse issues - you’d think the apocalypse would put a stop to that.”

“I’m sure we can help him,” Francis said quietly, glancing at his men. “Get him over to the medical wing.” Gareth and the others nodded, moving to open the cage. Castiel was still out cold but they easily loaded him onto the stretcher they’d brought him in on. “Don’t worry, Dean. Your friend is gonna be fine.”

Clenching his jaw, Dean forced a smile onto his face, watching the other men carry the former angel away. “I appreciate it,” he murmured.

Francis grinned, slapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s the least we can do. This new world isn’t without its problems but we can do a better job this time around, am I right?”

“Absolutely,” Dean agreed, smiling as genuinely as he could at his host. “It’s getting late,” he continued, stepping back out of Francis’ reach, a little uncomfortable being in such a close proximity. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay, start fresh tomorrow.”

The other man’s grin grew wider. “Good plan. We’ll see what we can do to find you a work spot. How are you with manual labor?”

*****

_ Two days later _

“Hey, man,” Dean murmured, sitting down beside Castiel. Dozy blue eyes lifted to meet his gaze and the former angel grinned. “How you feelin’ today?”

“Better,” Cas admitted. “They’re really nice here.”

Dean’s eyebrows lifted briefly but he kept the truth to himself. So far, they’d treated Cas well and Francis seemed to have decided Dean was his new best friend. In the process, Dean was finding out everything he could about the place before he decided what to do.

“Yeah, it’s great,” he dismissed. “Have they said how long you’ll have to stay?”

“The nurse said my injuries should be fully healed in a few weeks and I have to stay off of my leg.” Castiel grimaced, looking down at his bandage-wrapped left limb. “I still can’t remember much of what happened after you left.”

Shrugging, Dean leaned back in his seat, watching the nurse across the room, dealing with another patient. Most of the medical duties were left to the women, save for one guy who had been a doctor in the world before.

“The women are especially attentive,” Cas murmured, his eyes on the same nurse. “It’s peculiar.”

Dean grunted in response, dragging his eyes away from the woman. “I guess.”

“You don’t seem yourself.”

“I’m good, Cas, just… I don’t wanna trust these people.” A sigh left his lips as he dropped his head into his hands. The truth was on the tip of his tongue - how he’d seen Y/N, his suspicions about the women - but Cas hadn’t seen any of that yet and Dean wasn’t looking to put his still-socially naive friend at risk. As long as he remained clueless, he was safe.

Sitting up a little straighter, Cas frowned. “The war is over, Dean. This place… it’s the best we can hope for after everything. It’s better, even.” He offered a smile in Dean’s direction but the younger man didn’t respond. “Dean -”

“I gotta go,” Dean announced, getting to his feet. “Rest up, Cas. Sooner you’re back on your feet -”

“We can what?” The interruption made Dean stall on his path to the door. Slowly, he lowered his head, shaking it.

“Nothing,” he sighed, ducking out of the door before he had to tell the truth. Closing it behind him, Dean paused, trying to figure out what to do next.

Francis collared him halfway across the campus, the other man just as chirpy as usual. It was all Dean could do not to take out his foul mood on him, keeping a faux smile fixed to his face. “Dean! I was hoping to find you.”

“Something I can help with?” Dean forced out; Francis laughed, throwing an arm around Dean’s shoulders that he instantly wanted off.

“We’re going on a scouting mission. One of my guys found a house a few blocks into the city that seems to have a large stockpile. But it’s going to take a few of us to search the neighborhood. Thought you,” he tapped a finger against Dean’s chest, “might want to join us.”

Stuttering, Dean nodded and the other man grinned, gesturing back in the direction he’d come. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Francis replied, sounding amused. “You ever ridden a horse?”

“Sure,” Dean muttered, shrugging as he followed Francis toward the far end of the campus where they kept the horses and other livestock. He’d seen it on his tour - one of the more surprising elements of the whole place. “I mean, I’m not great.”

Francis laughed, shaking his head. “Me either.” They walked in silence for a few seconds, Francis slowing his pace to walk beside Dean. “How’s your friend?”

“Healing.”

“That’s good. Always looking for another pair of hands to help around the place. He looks strong.”

“He is,” Dean mumbled, lowering his chin to his chest. “He’s just been through a lot.”

“Haven’t we all?” Francis commented and Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The horses were already out and saddled, three other men waiting with them, none of whom Dean recognized. It made him a little nervous, being along with these strangers, but he knew he had to make a good impression.

Francis directed him to a large grey mare; Dean approached her cautiously, reaching out one hand slowly to stroke his hand over her muzzle. The horse snorted, rearing back the slightest amount, before sniffing him. When she calmed, he smiled, running his other hand down her neck, feeling the softness of her coat.

“Good girl,” he soothed, letting her see his slow movements toward the saddle. It had been a long ass time since he’d hauled himself up onto a horse but Dean was happy to find he wasn’t lacking in upper-arm strength. The mare whinnied at the added weight, holding her ground as Dean settled into the saddle.

“You sure you’re not good at this?” Francis teased, sitting atop his black mare. “She seems to like you.”

Dean smirked. “I’m just good with the ladies.”

All four men chortled at that and the group moved off toward the campus gates. The men stationed there opened them as they approached, waving them through and Dean looked around as they emerged into the woodlands surrounding the campus. The fence wasn’t high, mostly railings - Francis had told him on his first tour that the Croats were wiped out for miles around and their traps kept the perimeter mostly secure.

For the first few miles, Dean enjoyed the sounds around them, listening to the birds in the trees, the crunch of his horse’s hooves in the dirt. She huffed as she walked, not pulling on the rein but not needing much guidance to follow her kin. It wasn’t quite like driving his baby, the thought of which gave him a sad, empty feeling in his gut, but it was the closest he’d ever get again.

“The city limits are up ahead,” one of the men called. “Looks like we got a few strays.” Dean’s gaze followed everyone else’s to the scattered buildings up ahead. Suburban streets, littered with corpses and burnt out cars, the few remaining infected people wandering through the wreckage, their faces encrusted with blood and eyes red with the Croatoan virus.

It suddenly occurred to Dean that he didn’t even know which city this was.

“Stuart, take point,” Francis barked when one of the Croats jerked its head up, sightless eyes moving over their position. The horses stomped their hooves, sensing danger. Dean clung to the reins as his mare shook her head violently. “Dean.”

Turning his head, Dean blinked at the machete Francis was holding out to him.

“Show me what you’ve got,” the other man grinned, releasing the blade to Dean’s hold.


	7. Chapter 7

His limbs ached and he longed for his crappy little single cot in the dormitory but Francis had insisted on celebrating the man of the hour. It was almost like a scene out of some ancient biopic - every man in the room was drinking, cheering, pawing at the women trying to serve food and drink. 

Dean had never liked crowds and this mantopia was grating on his nerves.

“Come on, man! Drink!” Francis ordered, refilling his glass and Dean grimaced, washing back the foul homebrew.  At least it was working to dull his senses to the plethora of depravity that the celebration was starting to turn into. He’d saved men from far worse and never received this type of attention.

The beer left a lingering aftertaste that only worsened when his eyes caught hers across the room. Her smile was the first thing he noticed, before his gaze dropped to the sheer black dress she was wearing. She descended into the hall on bare feet, almost ghosting through the crowd toward the largest table at the end.

Francis’ eyes lit up as Y/N approached, her attention shifting to him. Rounding the table, she let him pull her into his lap, but when she kissed him, her eyes were back on Dean. “You almost died,” she whispered, pulling back to look Francis in the face.

He smirked, his hands possessively curled around her hips. “But I didn’t,” he pointed out, glancing at Dean, “thanks to our new friend here.” Y/N smiled over at Dean again, no recognition in her gaze. His heart sunk.

“Maybe I should thank him properly,” she murmured, leaning in as Francis chuckled. His fingers slid through her hair as he kissed her and Dean frowned, unable to peel his eyes away like he was watching a car crash. 

She’d changed so much. Aside from the physical changes, Y/N had never been overtly feminine - she was sexy as hell whatever she was wearing, as far as he was concerned. But this sexual aggressiveness, the way she draped herself over Francis like some bordello whore… even down to the basically see-through outfit.

It made him want to puke.

The rough alcohol was making his head spin. Y/N got to her feet, the smile on her face mesmerizing him. When she slid into his lap, straddling him, Dean didn’t object. Her hands were warm when she touched his face; just like he’d remembered and dreamed about since she’d walked away.

Since he’d driven her away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered - Y/N ignored him, holding his head steady.

“Y/N,” Francis caught her attention; she fixed him with a coy smile. “Take Dean up to your room and show him how we say thank you here.”

Dean didn’t resist as Y/N took hold of his hands, pulling him out of his seat and toward the outer door. The thunder of laughter and cheers followed them, dulled by the thick wooden door as it shut behind them. Outside, it was drizzling lightly and Dean’s first thought was that she must be cold in so little clothing.

But it didn’t seem to bother her as she took off, leading him through the yard toward the office building he’d first met Francis in. She didn’t stop and Dean kept pace, unable to stop smiling. For the briefest moment, he felt alive again, back in the days when they hadn’t had to fight just to make it through the day.

Crashing through the doors together, Dean was breathless as Y/N pushed him against the first wall inside. Her fingers curled in his collar, her belly grinding against his hard cock. “I want you, Dean,” she hummed, pressing her lips into his when she spoke, hungrily tasting him. “Wanted you the first night I saw you.”

Dean should have stopped. He should have stopped and demanded to know why she was acting like she didn’t know him.

Her hand slipped into the loose waistband of his pants, cupping his erection and forcing a moan from his lips. “Want you so bad,” she whimpered.

Responsible behavior was the furthest thing from his mind. It was akin to a haze descending over him, formed of pure lust and desperation. Y/N’s memory had haunted him for so long and now she was here. She was warm and pliant against his body, begging for him in that little voice that had always warmed his heart.

“Please,” she whispered, kissing him fully and Dean nodded, following dumbly when she accepted his consent and pulled him toward the stairs.

The room she called hers was large, with a small bathroom adjacent to the open plan area that contained a bed, a desk, and numerous books. Dean didn’t notice the small details as Y/N led him to her bed, turning to face him fully with her hands cradling his face.

For a moment, he saw something in her eyes, the way her expression softened and before he could stop, the words were leaving his lips. “I missed you.”

Y/N’s eyebrows dipped, the little crease in between them becoming more pronounced. “Huh?”

“You -” Dean swallowed, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

Her hands dropped, fingers tangling in his shirt to try and tug the buttons undone. He didn’t stop her, almost gawping at her in his shock that this was happening. She kept going, tearing at the fabric when the buttons wouldn’t slip free fast enough, which shook him out of the stupor he was in and geared his brain to the same wavelength as hers.

Grabbing hold of the shoulders of her dress, Dean tugged them down - Y/N lowered her hands to let the dress slip down, the material pooling around her bare feet. There was nothing to cover her breasts, very little covering anything else and Dean’s dumb expression matched the pounding of his heart.

“Touch me,” Y/N pleaded quietly; Dean nodded, obeying without question, completely drawn into the moment without remembering where he even was.

Her lips tasted just like he dreamed, her tongue stroking over his with a rhythm that was well-practised and perfected. When he slid his fingers through her hair, tugging on the long strands, Y/N whined into his mouth, returning her fingers to his shirt.

His clothing took longer to remove than hers had but Y/N was more than eager to assist him, dropping to her knees to remove his shoes. Something about the action didn’t sit right but Dean ignored it when her fingers dragged his pants down and her hot breath cascaded over his erection.

She hummed happily at the sight of his cock, wrapping her fingers around it to test the weight in her palm. Dean groaned, unable to take his eyes off of her as she stroked him, her pink tongue darting out to slide over his swollen glans. 

Y/N took him deeper, breathing through her nose and keeping her gaze on him. It was intoxicating to watch and Dean placed one hand on the side of her head, his chest heaving with each breath. Within seconds it felt like it was becoming too much - he pulled her away, ignoring her mewl of protest to drag her to her feet.

“Want you,” he mumbled, crushing his mouth into hers. Y/N reacted instantly, throwing her arms around his shoulders, letting him force her back toward the bed. They landed in a pile of limbs on the surprisingly soft mattress but Dean didn’t stop to smell the roses and she was too hungry for him to complain.

She was soaked when his fingers found her core, easily sliding past the impractical thong that didn’t cover even an inch of her sex. Y/N spread her legs willingly, giving him access and Dean took full advantage, pressing two long thick digits into her wet channel.

He’d missed the way she responded to his touch; nostalgia was a powerful feeling that only drove him to seek out her first climax. The sounds spilling from her lips made his cock throb painfully and Dean groaned when he felt her clench around his fingers, her juices coating his skin.

“Cum for me,” he urged, wanting nothing but to feel her fall apart. Y/N arched on the bed, both of her hands grasping his wrist as he drove his fingers into her harder, getting exactly what he wanted.

Withdrawing, Dean left her shaking and shuddering as he watched her, resplendent in her post-climactic haze. A split-second of hesitation made the room become clearer and he frowned, looking toward the door.

How had he -

Y/N’s hands curled around his shoulders, drawing him back toward her. The room became background again and Dean smiled, kissing her softly. His thighs brushed hers as he settled between her legs, his cock nudging her soaked entrance.

“Fuck me.” Her sultry whisper prompted Dean to growl, covering her mouth with his and sinking into her, all in the same breath. She squeaked at the sudden penetration, lifting her feet to hook her ankles behind his back. Sliding one hand under her ass, Dean angled her upward to press every inch inside her body, grunting when the tip of his cock slammed into her cervix.

He’d missed this.

Missed her.

Missed the warm feel of her body surrounding him, drowning him in her touch.

He didn’t ever want to let go.

A carnal need took hold and Dean dragged away, forcing Y/N onto her belly, his big hands grabbing her hips to tug her onto her knees. He re-entered her from behind, hitting a depth that made her scream and clutch at the pillows - he didn’t stop, fucking her hard and fast.

She only begged for more.

He could feel his climax building but he wanted to make her scream again. Clamping his hand onto her shoulder, he placed the other on her hip, pounding into her hard enough to make the bed shake against the wall.

His thumb brushed a dark mark on her neck, a tattoo he’d never noticed before.

But he was too close, too on edge to focus. Y/N’s body tightened again as she came, bucking back onto his cock and triggering his climax. Dean groaned loudly, holding himself deep as he came inside her, his sweaty skin sliding against hers as they both collapsed.

He didn’t remember falling asleep or Y/N curling into his side.

Neither of them noticed the figure in the doorway, a sly smile stretching pale lips back in glee at the sleeping pair.


	8. Your Every Whim

“Dean?”

Her voice was soft but enough to rouse him from slumber. For a moment, Dean thought he was back where he’d gone so wrong, expecting to see Sam sleeping in the bed opposite, Y/N safe at his side.

But the room he was in wasn’t any motel room, or the guest room at the salvage yard.

Sitting up, Dean looked over at Y/N, her confused face smudged with makeup. “Y/N…”

“What…” She swallowed, looking around. “Did we…”

He blushed like a teenager, tugging the sheet up over his morning wood as she sat up a little more. “Yeah, I… I guess.” The memories were fuzzy, tinged like a dream but he knew they’d slept together. Maybe more than once if the ache in his dick was anything to go by. “Y/N, Francis -”

Her entire disposition changed in the blink of an eye.

“He’ll be waiting for me,” she announced, sliding out of the bed, suddenly uncaring about her nudity. “You should go.”

“Y/N, wait,” Dean reached out, grabbing her wrist and Y/N froze, flinching at his touch, “talk to me. You know me.”

She shivered, turning back to look at him. “I knew you,” she whispered. “Then you sent me away. But Francis found me.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug and Dean released his hold on her, stunned by the sudden light in her eyes. “I’m happy now. I’m safe here.”

“You can’t be,” Dean insisted, getting out of the bed with the sheet wrapped around his waist. Y/N scowled, stepping back. “He’s using you like a sex doll, like an object -”

“It’s a better life,” she shrugged again, pulling back from him but Dean grabbed her, irritation fuelling his actions. “Dean!”

“Does he know? Does he know that you were mine first?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “I don’t - I never -” Stumbling backward, Y/N clutched her head, avoiding his eyes. “You came here a few days ago. You saved Francis. You…”

The door to the room opened and Y/N turned, her gaze meeting Francis’ as he entered, a wide smile on his face. Dean tightened his hold on the sheet, unable to quite process what was happening when Y/N crossed the room to throw her arms around the other man’s neck.

“Francis! We were just talking about you,” she giggled.

“Were you now?” Francis kissed her softly before pushing her to the side. “I assume you thanked Dean thoroughly.” His eyes glittered as he looked at Dean, who shuffled awkwardly like he’d been caught banging Francis’ wife. Francis laughed, reaching out to place a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Go and get freshened up.”

She trotted off obediently and Dean wanted to puke. Everything about the events of the night before were haunting him, like he’d been completely out of control. And then there was the tattoo on her neck. Something about that was bugging him.

“She’s a good girl,” Francis commented, closing the door. It left Dean feeling vulnerable, with only a sheet covering his nudity. “Hard to keep tamed.”

Dean snorted unwittingly, covering it with a laugh. “Yeah, she’s pretty wild,” he bluffed, remembering the Y/N he’d known - the one who wouldn’t be submitting to anyone the way she was now. “Sorry, man, I wasn’t expecting you to walk in.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be awake,” Francis retorted in amusement. “Clearly you have more resilience than most average men.”

Shrugging, Dean reached for his pants, discarded on the floor the night before. He had a choice to make - continue the conversation with the sheet covering his modesty or literally, pull out the big guns. Or gun. It was a childish thing to do but he wanted his pants on and it wouldn’t be the first guy to see him naked.

Hell, he’d grown up around Sam, who’d gone through a serious not-wanting-pants phase at about seven and a really annoying “what’s knocking” phase when Dean had been requiring the privacy any teenage boy craved.

Tossing the sheet back onto the bed, Dean acted as nonchalant as he could, tugging his pants on one leg at a time. He couldn’t see what Y/N had done with his shoes but at least with trousers once again covering him, he felt a little more confident.

“It’s been a while,” he confessed, sounding as sheepish as possible. It wasn’t exactly a lie - his last lay had been about seven months before, although he couldn’t remember her name. “She wore me out.”

Francis laughed. “Oh, I’ll bet. You let her get that pretty little mouth on you?”

Dean laughed, sick to his stomach and almost losing his poker face in favor of beating the guy senseless. “A little. But I’m an impatient man.”

The other man’s mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Maybe next time.” A sick chill travelled down Dean’s spine as Francis approached, clapping a hand onto his shoulder. “I have a feeling you’re going to like it here, Dean.”

Lifting his head, Dean smiled as genuinely as he could manage, envisioning ways of making the guy bleed. But for now, he needed to keep playing the game before he could undo whatever this man had done to Y/N.

He patted Francis’ shoulder, spotting his shoes by the nightstand as he pushed past him. “Me too.”

*****

Castiel sat opposite him in the small break area, the beer in his hands long since warmer in the sun. Telling him the truth hadn’t been easy, especially when it came to the darker aspects of what Dean had experienced, and the former angel had yet to speak since everything had been brought to light.

Rolling his own beer between his fingers, Dean stared at a patch of dirt beside his foot, not sure what to say or do until he knew Cas’ reaction.

“She survived.” The two lowly spoken words weren’t what he’d expected; Dean lifted his head, meeting Castiel’s brilliant blue gaze. “After all this, she survived.”

“All this?” Dean repeated, a little confused. “She’s a slave, Castiel. Didn’t even recognize me, even when -”

“You fucked her.”

It sounded so crass and blunt in the older man’s dull tone and Dean cringed, looking away. “Yeah,” he grunted, placing the half-empty beer bottle on the floor by his stool. The sun was hot today, meaning more breaks for those working in the fields. Hard work, but satisfying, and a good way to clear your head.

Theoretically.

“And this Francis…” Castiel droned on thoughtfully. “He’s… nice.”

Dean snorted. “It’s an act.”

“So you think. What if Y/N wants to be here?” Fixing Cas with a strange look, Dean shook his head in disbelief but the other man only shrugged. “You’ve seen the people, just as I have. They’re safe, fed - these children have a future.”

“Not much of one,” Dean countered. “There’s something wrong here, Cas.”

“I know.” Castiel’s acknowledgment was accompanied by a wry smile. “And I was not wrong when I said you were a good man. Any other would accept the situation, take the good for what it is and ignore what seems morally corrupt.”

“I didn’t tell you for a lecture,” Dean snapped, “I told you because we need to do something.”

Laughter bubbled up from Cas’ chest and he dropped the beer bottle to the floor, nodding. “I’m aware. It is still fun to goad you after all these years.” His eyes twinkled with mirth and Dean groaned, covering his face with his hands, refraining from calling his oldest surviving friend an asshole. “You wouldn’t have come to me if you didn’t have a plan already.”

The truth was there. In the near-week since Dean had laid eyes on Y/N, he’d done nothing but avoid the situation to try and formulate some kind of escape. He’d assessed all of the defences in place around the campus, the weapons they had, the manpower.

Both he and Castiel were heavily outarmed, outgunned and out-everythinged.

“Nothing concrete,” Dean muttered, glancing over at the other men and women working in the fields. “There’s a lot of them and only two of us.”

“Three,” Castiel corrected. “Y/N was always a good hunter.”

“Except she doesn’t remember any of that.”

“Or she’s being forced to forget.”

Silence met that statement; Dean chewed the inside of his cheek, leaning heavily on his left knee. “Then we make her remember.” He straightened as he saw Francis enter the fields, the men greeting their leader as he walked through them. “Act dumb, Cas.”

Castiel nodded sharply, watching as Dean got to his feet. “Dean!” Francis called, picking up his pace as he sauntered toward them. “Gareth told me you’d been working out here in the fields.” Grinning, Dean nodded and shook Francis’ hand when offered. “And Castiel - feeling better?”

“Much,” the former celestial replied.

Francis smiled widely. “Good. My men say you’re a hard worker - we need as many of those as we can get. Have you given any thought to staying?” His eyes moved to Dean, who shifted awkwardly.

“Yes,” Castiel announced, standing from his seat. “We have decided to stay.”

“Wonderful!” Francis clapped Dean on the shoulder, his brief glance at Castiel full of disdain that didn’t make sense. Dean remained silent, watching the man carefully. “Can I borrow you for a moment?”

“I should return to work,” Castiel murmured, giving Dean one last look before turning away, leaving them alone.

“Walk with me,” Francis instructed, sliding his hand to guide Dean forward. The hunter nodded, keeping pace with the other man as they walked, away from the fields and the workers. “I needed to ask you something.”

“Sure,” Dean mumbled, giving him a sideways glance.

Their pace slowed until Francis stopped, smiling at Dean in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. “We’re having a celebration of sorts,” he said, a strange look in his eyes. “Just a few of the more senior men and I wanted to invite you along.”

Dean tilted his head, a little confused. “Me?”

“You’ve not been here long,” Francis continued, “but you’ve proven yourself a valuable person to have around, Dean. Like I’ve mentioned before, there are certain… benefits… to a life here.” It was ominous sounding at best, but Dean knew that rejecting the invitation probably wouldn’t be a great idea.

He’d always trusted his instincts. They rarely lied. This man was dangerous, more than he appeared to be. And then there was the matter of the tattoo on Y/N’s neck, one he hadn’t seen on any other individual here.

“Sounds great,” Dean grinned, making his decision; Francis practically beamed, nodding happily. “What time?”

“There’s a clearing beyond the north wall. Be there an hour after sunset tomorrow evening.” The instructions were finalized with Francis’ hand landing on his shoulder, an act of perceived comradery that made Dean hate him all the more.

But he kept his faux smile in place. He had work to do.


	9. The Choice

He didn’t know what he was walking into.

The clearing past the north wall was easy to spot - several shirtless men lined the perimeter, one of whom handed him a beer as he walked in. Dean drank it without question, his eyes scanning the perimeter for Francis. When he didn’t see him, Dean moved to a spot away from the other men and women, all of whom were in various states of undress.

In the middle of the clearing, a huge fire burned, figure outlined black against the light. They were all women, all nude, dancing around the flames.

Y/N was with them.

Dean frowned, his back going ramrod straight as he watched her, the firelight flickering over her skin as she twisted to the drumbeat. He wasn’t sure where the music was even coming from - a lot of the gathered masses obstructed his view. That, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

She was beautiful. Resplendently carnal, twisting and laughing with the other women, stumbling too close to the flames for Dean’s comfort. The smile on her face was something that had been foreign to him for a long time.

Despite the wrongness of it, the exhibitionist side that he’d never met… Y/N seemed happy. Happier than he remembered her.

“You came,” a voice dragged his attention away from Y/N and Dean turned, spotting Gareth coming toward him. The guy was barefoot and shirtless, wearing a pair of low-slung slacks. “Francis didn’t tell you about any of this, huh?”

“I’m, er,” Dean tipped his beer back, taking a deep swig as he laughed nervously, “I’m figuring it out.”

Gareth grinned. “We’re just giving thanks, man. Everything we have… it’s down to this. Enjoy the moment. It’s safe.”

Dean doubted that in every sense but he smiled and chinked his beer against Gareth’s when it seemed appropriate. Standing side by side, they both watched the flames - Gareth’s wife was there, along with Toombes’. None of the women seemed to care about their nudity and as the clouds parted, showing the brilliantly round full moon, Dean’s stomach flip-flopped in concern.

This was seeming more and more like a ritual by the moment.

The music grew in intensity as the women moved faster, more seductively, some of them pairing off with men from the surrounding crowd. Francis appeared across the clearing, meeting Dean’s eyes with a smirk before approaching where Y/N was still dancing, close enough to the flames that Dean felt sick with worry she’d burn herself.

Static electricity filled the air as more primal acts started to take place around him. Gareth moved off, finding his wife with the other women, both of them consumed by the need to touch each other. Dean could feel how hard he was in his pants and the heat was unbearable - it was less than a second to strip his shirt off so he was bare-chested, still sweating with the increasing pressure.

This was magic. He could taste it on his tongue.

Francis caught Y/N as she spun around, her hair almost in the fire. She pressed herself up against him with a tittering laugh that Dean shouldn’t have heard from so far away but despite the sexual acts taking place around him, he had tunnel vision that seemed focused on her.

Y/N dropped to her knees, her fingers in Francis’ waistband, dragging his pants down. Half the couples around him were in positions of full-blown coitus, the sound of sex drowning out any music that was still playing.

Someone was chanting when Y/N took Francis’ cock between her full lips, the droned words indistinguishable.

Dean’s head started to spin.

Like a perfectly timed movement, the women all turned on their men, bowing their heads into the dirt, presenting themselves like breeding cattle. Dean swallowed, stepping back as the dizziness grew worse, his eyes locked on Y/N’s naked body.

Francis was touching her.

The chanting grew louder, still indistinguishable but enough of a buzz to completely disorientate him. His legs didn’t want to cooperate, his fingers loosened around the beer as he fell onto his ass, barely holding himself up.

He still couldn’t stop watching her.

His cock throbbed in his pants but he didn’t make any move to touch himself, his attention fixed on the way Y/N moved when Francis started to fuck her. Everyone was lost in their intimate acts, the droning chant getting louder like a rattled beehive.

Dean felt a strange chill in his chest, ice buried between his ribs. The dizziness worsened and he could see the blackness tinging his vision.

Y/N screamed as she came.

The face of the man fucking her twisted as he glanced at Dean, spilling into the woman underneath him. A light seemed to surround them both, like strings tugging from every person in the vicinity. Including him.

Blackness became everything and Dean passed out with Y/N’s cries echoing in his head.

*****

The ground was cold underneath him; Dean woke with a shudder, bleary eyes lifting from where he’d curled into the fetal position overnight. Dawn lit the sky behind the trees and he pushed up, reaching for his shirt. He pulled it on, looking around to see the numerous unconscious bodies around him.

Y/N and Francis were gone.

Stumbling to his feet, Dean searched the area, casting his gaze over the smoldering embers of the fire, the bottles littered across the grass. None of the men or women seemed to be stirring - he lumbered back toward the campus, trying to clear his head of the remaining grogginess.

There was no one anywhere. Every building was silent, giving the entire place a creepy aura as Dean crept through, heading back to his dormitory.

He wasn’t expecting Francis to be sat on the fence by the kitchens, smirking at him as he smoked what was clearly a joint. “Francis,” Dean murmured in surprise, stopping a few feet from the other man.

“I thought you’d wake first,” Francis commented, jumping down from the fence. He was fully-clothed, at least, not that Dean would ever wipe the memory of seeing his bare flesh the night before. It made rage boil in his belly. “You’re strong, Dean. I need that.”

The cryptic remark didn’t settle well and Dean couldn’t help but bristle. “What was that?” he demanded.

Francis chuckled, shaking his head and dropping the finished smoke to the floor, crunching it beneath his boot. “What do you think it was?”

“Some kinda hoodoo.”

Laughter greeted that response. “Amusing. I do like you, Dean.” He clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder, applying pressure to turn him. “A harmless ritual of sacrifice. One that guarantees protection for me, my people. So we can prosper in this new world.”

“Harmless and sacrifice don’t usually go together,” Dean mused, pulling away from the other man’s hold.

“It’s a sacrifice of energy,” Francis continued, the amusement still on his face. “Nothing that can’t be replenished. And the best energy -” He leered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Is sexual energy.” Across the campus, a bell rang and Francis stood straight, looking in that direction. “Everyone will be waking soon. I will let you get some rest.”

Without arguing, Dean watched him leave, narrowing his eyes at the man’s retreating back.

There was nothing harmless about what was going on here. And Dean was determined to get to the bottom of it.


	10. Hallelujah

It took a while to remember how to get to her room. Once he was certain Francis was far enough away, Dean snuck into the dormitory that she’d taken him to that night they’d slept together, climbing the steps quickly. Her door was closed but not locked, and Dean easily slipped inside.

She was sleeping.

He stopped just inside, closing the door before fixing his gaze on her, staring unapologetically. God, he kept forgetting how beautiful she was. Dean had never been one to keep more than a couple of photographs of his family and the one thing he regretted was never having so much as a stolen polaroid of her.

How had he nearly forgotten her face?

Y/N stirred, rolling over onto her other side. She was nude underneath the sheets that caught just above her breasts and from where Dean was standing, he could see the tattoo on the back of her neck clearly.

The center of it was a star, with a swirl of patterns at each side and what looked like an upside-down cross at the bottom. Lines crossed through each point, hollow circles at each tip and point. Dean didn’t recognize it but it didn’t look like it was a harmless inking.

His foot made the floorboards squeak as he slipped closer and Y/N woke, sitting up abruptly. Her eyes were wide as she regarded him, stood sheepishly in the middle of the room. “Hi,” he managed, straightening when the sheet dropped, exposing her bare breasts to him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding more curious than angry.

Dean flustered, unsure where to look. Y/N tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. 

“Why does my nudity bother you so much?”

“It doesn’t,” he assured her, a nervous smile on his face. “Although, I’d find it easier to talk to you if you were wearing something.” She didn’t move a muscle, glaring at him and Dean realized she wasn’t about to get dressed. “Do you…” He took a step closer, focusing on her face. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

Her head moved a fraction in a nod. “I remember every time.”

“And you’re not bothered by it?”

“Why would I be?” Y/N shrugged, leaning forward. “I’m safe, happy -”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, it’s a friggin’ utopia,” Dean grunted, shaking his head. “The Y/N I knew wouldn’t have been like this. Letting someone use her like this. That ritual… jeez, Y/N, you used to be a hunter. You should be able to sniff the magic a mile away.”

Anger twisted her features and she swung her legs over the bed, dragging the sheet to cover herself for the first time. “What do you care?” she snapped, malice dripping from her lips. “ _ You _ sent me away. You fucked all those other women - if it wasn’t for you -”

Her eyes cleared, every inch of the woman he knew coming through. She was pissed but she was also frightened, and when her words trailed off, her complexion suddenly turning ashen… Dean knew he’d broken through whatever spell she was under.

“Dean,” she whispered.

Then she dropped.

Dean caught her a split second before her head connected with the bedpost, almost breaking his ankle as he dove to the rescue. She was out cold, a dead weight as he struggled to get her up onto the bed.

The door opened and Dean froze leaning over her, turning slowly to see Francis in the doorway. “Everything okay?” he asked, lifting his chin, his eyes cold and humorless.

“Yeah!” Dean moved back, letting Francis stride past him. “We were talking and she… I dunno. She got all…”

“She’s supposed to be resting,” the other man growled, smoothing Y/N’s hair back from her face, cupping her cheek delicately. “Why are you in here?”

Dean stuttered, scratching at the back of his head. “I dunno, man, I just -” He didn’t have a clue what to say and Francis knew it. His cover was blown. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been up here.”

“I like you, Dean,” Francis muttered, giving him a dark look, “but you’d do well to remember your place here.” The warning in his tone was clear; the alpha male in Dean’s chest growled and clamored for the fight but his head won out. He backed up, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Won’t happen again.”

Y/N whimpered, her eyes fluttering open and fixing on Francis as he leaned over her. “Y/N,” he breathed, sitting down and stroking her face with one hand. She smiled, sitting up, her gaze almost drunken as she stared at him for a second before noticing Dean.

“Hi, Dean,” she chirped. “Is everything okay?”

“Just fine, dove,” Francis murmured, cupping her shoulder. “Why don’t you get dressed for supper?” He stood up, glaring at Dean and ushering him toward the door, closing it softly behind the both of them. Dean swallowed nervously as they stood in the hallway. 

“Francis -” Dean started, only to be cut off by a hand in his face.

“Now, Imma assume you’re quite taken with my little starlet back there. I imagine what you saw last night -” Francis sucked in air through his teeth. “She’s a wild one. And I know she’s not fussed over the male form - one’s as interchangeable as the next as far as she’s concerned - but -” Francis laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean forced a flinch to give the man the authority he wanted. “She’s mine. You’ll do well to keep that in mind.”

Dean nodded, remaining silent as the smile returned to Francis’ face.

“I’ll see you at the meal,” he announced, gesturing toward the stairs and Dean took the hint, walking off with a hurried pace. He could feel eyes on him as he walked away - he didn’t look back. As soon as he was outside and out of sight, Dean stopped and exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

He had to find Cas.

*****

“You’re certain this is the sigil you saw?” Castiel held the piece of paper between his fingers, staring at the rough design Dean had sketched out. His artistic skills were just as good as they’d ever been and the way the former angel was reacting was making him sick to his stomach.

He’d sought him out after the communal meal, ushering him away to a quiet spot where they could talk privately. “I’m sure, Cas, just tell me - what the hell are we dealing with here?”

Lowering the paper, Castiel met his eyes, the same dead serious expression Dean remembered from before on his face. “This is the Sigil Of Astaroth.” He stopped, clearly expecting Dean to know what he meant by that.

“I’m gonna need a  _ little _ more,” Dean muttered, unamused.

“He’s a demon. A particularly old demon. He doesn’t just harvest souls, he feeds on them. Siphons their power, usually through a vessel.”

“You’re telling me Francis is possessed?”

Castiel shrugged. “Whatever he is doing, he’s using the demon’s power to make himself king. And these people are agreeable because they’re having their souls eaten away, piece by piece. Everything you witnessed, it definitely sounds ritualistic. Astaroth is a corrupter, he specializes in lowering inhibitions, making people more persuasive, more obedient.”

“And Y/N?”

“I’ve never heard of demons tattooing their sigils on people,” Castiel admitted, looking back at the paper. “I couldn’t tell you without researching the lore. And we’re minus a library.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I thought all this was in the past. Can we exorcise this sonofabitch?”

Cas shook his head. “Remember Alistair?” Boy, did he ever. “Astaroth was superior to even him. Not a Prince of Hell but close enough. He will be hard to defeat and only my blade will kill him.”

“Did they take it from you?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow in concern.

“No, I concealed it in the woods not far from here. I can get it tonight when the guards are sleeping.”

Nodding, Dean looked around when he heard voices. “Good. Get on that. I’m gonna figure out how to lure Francis away. If we do it publicly…”

“We’ll never get out alive,” Cas finished. “What about Y/N?”

Dean’s mouth set into a thin line. “She remembered me, Cas. Maybe only for a second but if I can get through to her, we can get her out of here.” The other man looked a little doubtful but remained silent as the voice grew closer and a small group of men walked past. None of them spared so much as a glance in Dean or Castiel’s direction, but they both sighed in relief when they were alone again.

“Be careful,” Cas hissed and Dean nodded, hurrying off in the direction of the dormitories.

*****

The room was eerily quiet as Y/N sat, legs folded underneath her at the foot of her bed. It had been her bed for longer than any other place had been but now, remembering how she’d been coerced and used by the man she’d thought rescued her…

Francis had turned her into a puppet for his own pleasure and power.

Her hands shook as she stared at them, dragging her gaze over the thick scar covering her left palm from where she’d had to give blood for a ritual back in the hunting days. The memories came rushing back in each breath, Dean’s face in nearly all of them.

Until he’d sent her away.

Y/N had nearly died after that. Francis had saved her and she was certain he was already corrupted. He’d  _ infected _ her. Made her a baser creature that he could control.

She needed to escape. Find Dean, tell him she remembered.

“Do you really want to leave me, my love?”

Francis’ voice made her jump; she looked up sharply, eyes wide with fear as he emerged from the shadows, an unnaturally wide smile on his face. “Francis - I -”

He chuckled, cutting her off as he walked closer. “I knew there was a chance he would break the enchantment I’d crafted for you. But then, he would, wouldn’t he?” Sitting down, he reached out, cradling her face as she shook. “You’ve always been connected to Dean Winchester in a way even I can’t untangle.”

Realization made Y/N gasp when his eyes rolled back to show only white and his hand slipped down to grasp her throat. “Who -” Her words cut off when his fingers constricted her airway.

“That’s not important,” Francis murmured. “I know what I need to know.” Y/N sobbed, tears trickling down her cheeks. “Hush, little dove,” he soothed, smiling softly. “It’s all going to be over soon.”


	11. Have You Seen Her

The buildings were falling quiet as everyone headed to bed after the meal. A few men sat outside, enjoying the unseasonably warm evening and drinking, some with their women hanging all over them. Dean kept the shadows, knowing how to slip by unnoticed.

He found no sign of Francis or Y/N in the building her room was in. The entire place was emptied out and Dean paused at the door, wondering where they could have gone. 

Gazing out of the window, he saw the north wall just beyond the next block.

The clearing.

It was nearly pitch black outside now, the few dim lights barely giving any visibility but Dean was used to moving in the dark. The clearing was up ahead; he picked up his pace, hoping Cas would figure it out. He had to get Y/N away from Francis.

The moon peeked out from behind the clouds as Dean reached the open space, lighting the empty circle, the ground in the middle still scorched black.

His heart jumped into his throat and he skid to a halt, seeing Francis emerge from the other side of the clearing, two black-eyed demons on each side. A noise made Dean glance over his shoulder; two more demons were behind him.

“Shit,” he grunted, falling into a defensive posture.

“Dean Winchester,” Francis drawled. “It truly is a pleasure.”

*****

Her throat was burning from her screams. The tears had long since dried up and her arms were numb from hanging in the chains Francis had secured her to the wall with. No one could hear her and Y/N was close to giving up.

Everything had come back to her now. From leaving Dean to being found by Francis, bloodied and half-dead. The Croats had cornered her and for a split second, she considered him a savior.

It wasn’t long before she found out the truth.

He’d branded her, hexed her, turned her into a puppet with no will of her own. She’d had to watch him enslave others under the guise of safety, consuming their souls piece by piece. But he never touched hers.

Y/N didn’t know why.

Dean had no idea what he was up against and Y/N had no way to warn him.

Time was indiscernible. It could have been minutes or hours that she hung there, bare toes scraping the floor, the wall rough at her back. The thin white slip she wore only protected her so much from the pointed broken concrete and she felt the cold in her bones.

When the door opened, flooding the underground chamber with light; Y/N shut her eyes against it, turning her head. “Good morning, darling!” Francis called, the sounds of a struggle accompanying his voice. “Look who I found!”

She forced her eyes open, focusing on the crumpled and bloodied form of Dean in front of her. Fresh tears blossomed as Dean opened one swollen eye to look up at her. “Dean,” she whispered, shaking her head, “I’m sorry.”

Francis chuckled in amusement, walking around Dean as he struggled to get to his feet, failing miserably. “I really was expecting more.”

“Three against one,” Dean ground out, spitting blood onto the dirt floor, “wasn’t exactly a fair fight.”

The door closed with a slam, two of the possessed guards remaining either side of it. Dean kept trying to move, his ribs grating together with each movement. It wasn’t enough that Francis and his demons had captured him - they’d spent what felt like hours working him over until he was a bruised and bloody mess.

“Still,” Francis commented, inspecting his fingernails, “not what I expected from the great Dean Winchester.”

“Please,” Y/N interrupted, drawing Francis’ attention back to her. He moved closer, watching her face twist in pain. “Please, don’t -”

“Oh, my sweet Y/N,” he purred, touching her cheek with one cold hand. “You’ve brought me so much. And now, you get to fulfill your final purpose.”

“God, you gonna monologue all day?” Dean spat, getting onto his knees. Francis glanced back at him with his hand still on Y/N’s face. “I didn’t think the lackey got to do all the talking. Where’s your master, big boy?”

The question made Francis laugh and he pulled away from Y/N, winking at her before swinging his leg forward, his foot connecting with Dean’s stomach. Blood spurted from the downed man’s lips and he tumbled back, landing heavily on his shoulders.

“Dean!”

Francis blocked her view as she shrieked, advancing on the hunter, his fists curled at his side. “You think I’m a lackey?”

“No,” Dean coughed, rolling onto his side. “I think you’re a  _ two-bit _ lackey.”

There was a crunch as Francis slammed his foot into Dean’s spine, sending him crashing across the room into the wall. Y/N screamed for him again - Dean spluttered blood onto the floor, clutching his middle.

“I am Astaroth, you pathetic meat sack,” Francis roared, preparing to attack again. Dean covered his head, waiting for the blow, hoping he could last long enough for Cas to arrive from wherever the fuck he was. “I am corruption, I am carnage. And this world is going to be  _ mine _ .”

“And you changed your name to Francis?” Dean quipped, laughing despite the pain.

Francis’ eyes turned white and he leaned in, grabbing Dean’s short locks between his fingers, hauling him to his feet. “You’re going to die, Winchester.”

“Stop!” Y/N wailed, pulling on her chains, her feet against the bottom of the wall. “Francis, stop! Let him go!”

White eyes turned to her, sending a shiver down her spine. “You brought him here, Y/N. He was a part of this from the moment I found you.” Dropping Dean with a punch to the belly, Francis let him fall to the dirt, turning to Y/N with a grin that looked horrific with his pale eyes.

“W-what do you want?” Y/N asked, lifting her chin as he started to approach.

“I already have what I want,” he answered, drawing close enough to place his hand at her throat, squeezing lightly. “The world is rebuilding. People have  _ hope _ .” His smile was wicked and too wide, his breath almost rancid as the layers of pretense were stripped away. “Lucifer failed and where he failed, I will succeed.”

Y/N struggled, drawing back as far as she could before spitting in his face. Francis recoiled, his grip loosening a fraction. “You’ll be as shitty a Devil as you were a lay.”

Her words hit their target and Francis’ composure broke. With a yell of fury, he tore her from the wall, the chains breaking from their roots. Y/N screamed in pain as her arms were wrenched back for a split second before she was on the floor, the demon advancing on her.

“Do you know he’s your soulmate?” Francis taunted, dropping his foot onto her chest. Grabbing his leg with both hands, Y/N screamed as his weight bore down onto her fragile ribcage. “He was so broken and then… then he saw you again. And did his soul sing -”

Y/N choked, tears splashing into the dirt as she tried to stop him crushing her chest. Smiling, Francis retreated, watching her roll in the dirt.

“I’m not going to kill you like this,” he murmured, reaching down to grab her again. “The connection you have with your pathetic hunter is what I need to open the gate. Dean’s the perfect vessel, after all and you… you’re his perfect mate.”

Nausea and disgust curled in Y/N’s belly as he hoisted her into the air. Her eyes went to the wall behind him, watching Dean get to his feet, readying himself to attack. But Francis wasn’t going to be beaten that easy.

His free hand flew out and Dean was pinned against the wall, screams of pain accompanying the twist of Francis’ hand. Y/N cried out, struggling as hard as she could, tugging at the arm holding her.

“Don’t you want peace?” Francis asked, holding them both effortlessly. “The end of all this?”

“N - not like that,” Y/N gasped, her hold on his wrist growing weaker. She let go, the chains weighing her arms down. “No…” Francis tightened his free hand and Dean’s cry cut off with a sickening crunch. He choked, blood dribbling down his chin.

Something sparked in Y/N’s chest - she curled the chain around her wrist, wincing at the pull to her injured shoulders. The demon’s head turned as he heard a noise from outside and she took her chance, bringing the chain around her back before swinging it as hard as she could.

It connected with Francis’ head with a thud and in the same second, Dean fell to the floor, the demon power holding him in place shattering. He landed heavily on his knees, lifting his head to see Y/N on the floor and Francis shaking his head to clear the dizziness from the blow.

“Y/N,” Dean rasped, his insides on fire. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She was half-dead but she managed a nod, even as Francis started to laugh again. “He’s lying again, Y/N. Like he’s always done.”

“Shut up,” Dean growled, getting to his feet.

“He’s the reason you’re here,” Francis continued, placing himself between the two. “He’s the reason the world ended. The reason his brother is dead.” Dean lurched forward, right into Francis’ grasp. The demon pulled him close, their faces inches apart. “You’re the reason she almost died. You broke her, Dean. Made it easy for me to claim her and brand her.” His laughter was hot against Dean’s face. “You practically handed her over on a silver platter.”

Angry bubbled in his veins and Dean grabbed the demon’s wrist, rage giving him more strength than he should have had. His actions made Francis laugh, the white eyes boring into him.

“What are you going to do, Dean?”

The door burst open, light blinding all of them as Castiel appeared, swiftly dispatching one of the demons before blocking an attack from the other. Francis roared and Dean took his chance, landing a blow that dislodged the grip on his shirt. Y/N shrieked, trying to get away as Dean floored his opponent, almost falling at the same time.

Cas dragged his blade free from the corpse of the last demon he’d slain, turning to see Francis grab hold of Dean’s head, preparing to crush his skull. Hoisting the blade in the air, the former angel yelled at Y/N as she got to her feet.

She caught the blade with a second to spare, screaming when she flung herself toward Francis, aiming the blade for his chest. He had no time to react or to defend himself - the pointed tip of the angel blade hit its mark.

Dean hit the floor with a grunt, rolling out of the way as the demon Astaroth burned from the inside out, leaving a charred corpse to topple to the ground.

The room fell silent, thick with the scent of scorched flesh. 

Y/N collapsed, scraping her knees against the floor as she sobbed. Crawling on his knees, Dean didn’t manage to reach her before Cas did, the dark haired man scooped up the angel blade and Y/N, glancing at Dean.

“We need to leave,” he said, gritting his teeth as he held Y/N up. “We don’t know how many more demons there are. I have two horses secured outside the gate.”

“Help him,” Y/N whimpered. “I can stand just fine.” Cas nodded, leaving her side to help Dean from the floor. The younger man groaned, clutching his chest as his friend hauled him up, supporting his weight as they lurched to the door. Y/N followed close behind, limping heavily on her right leg, the chains still dragging behind her.

Getting Dean onto the back of the black mare Francis had ridden was easier said than done and by the time Cas had him up there, the hunter was almost unconscious. He turned to Y/N, taking hold of the chains still attached to her wrists, using the angel blade to snap the locks.

“I’ll ride with Dean,” she whispered and Cas nodded, helping her up behind the other man, making sure she had hold of the reins. “Where are we going?”

“North,” Castiel informed her, mounting the grey mare. She snorted, stamping her hooves against the dirt floor. “Go, now!”

Y/N snapped the reins and the mare lurched forward toward the campus gate, bolting through it. There were shouts from behind them but she didn’t look back, hoping Cas was following. The noise pushed the horse forward harder, her panic accelerating their speed.

“The river!” Cas yelled, making Y/N hiccup in relief, tears falling down her cheeks as she rode, pinning her sore elbows against Dean to hold on for dear life. “If we can get across, they won’t follow!” She didn’t know how he knew that but she trusted him, taking the left at the forked road toward the swollen river banks.

The bridge was rickety, infrequently used. Y/N’s horse hesitated, prompted forward by Y/N’s heel in her rump, whinnying in panic when the first wooden plank cracked under her weight. Underneath them, the water rushed with a loud roar and Y/N held her breath, coaxing the horse on.

“Go!” Cas called, waiting for them to cross first - the bridge would never hold both of the animals and their passengers.

Making it to the other side, Y/N swung the horse round, staring across the river in horror as men emerged from the road they’d come down and Castiel urged his horse over the bridge. The water splashed up against the side and Y/N screamed.

“Cas!”

One of the ropes snapped. The men were gaining ground and the bridge wasn’t going to hold.

He was so close.

Dean stirred, lifting his head. “What -”

The bridge collapsed.


	12. Take Me And My Worth

The grocery store was dimly lit by the candles scattered around. They’d brought the horses inside, securing them in a cleared corner, setting up a camp across from them with good vantage points of all the exits.

Castiel sat upright against a shelving unit, a joint in one hand. Y/N watched him from where she laid on the sleeping bags Dean had found in one of the houses they’d raided, a folded sweater providing a pillow to cushion her head.

“You should sleep,” Cas murmured.

Sitting up, Y/N crawled to his side, plucking the joint from his fingers. “How do you always have weed?” she asked, taking a long drag on the smoke. He smirked, shrugging. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Still having nightmares?” he asked; she nodded. “I wish I could do more to help.”

“We’d be dead without you,” she pointed out and he smiled again. In the two weeks since they’d killed Astaroth, or Francis, or whatever he was, they’d spent every night sheltering in abandoned buildings, picking their way through, using the horses as little as they could.

They’d made it to South Dakota, stopping just beyond the state line.

“I’m sorry,” Cas muttered. “I should have done something before all this. I saw him struggling, I saw you both - and I did nothing. If I had, maybe -”

“What’s done is done,” Y/N whispered. “We can’t change it.”

“That doesn’t mean you should just brush it off and ignore it.”

She didn’t answer his statement, her eyes drifting toward Dean. He was still healing, the broken ribs taking longer than expected. The bruises had faded, most of the cuts were healed but there was no telling what internal injuries he sustained in the fight.

“He did miss you. He never said it but -”

“I know.” Her soft acknowledgement cut Cas off and he lowered his head, accepting the joint when she passed it back. Neither of them spoke again and when Y/N moved to tuck herself back into her makeshift bed, the room fell into silence, only the soft sounds of breathing accompanying Castiel’s quiet contemplation.

*****

It was raining when Dean woke a few hours later. Y/N was asleep and Cas was nowhere to be seen - he sat up, looking around. Daylight filtered in through the windows, the raindrops pattering against the glass in random patterns.

Y/N whimpered in her sleep, catching his attention. Sliding from his sleeping bag, he crawled toward her, sitting at her side and reaching out to touch her shoulder. She instantly woke, fists flying at the perceived threat - Dean caught her wrists, holding her steady.

“Y/N, it’s okay,” he soothed, trying to catch her eye. Her struggles lessened, her sobs echoing around the store. The horses snorted at the sounds of distress, hooves clicking against the tiled floor. “Y/N, you’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” she whined, shaking her head, pulling her fists from his hold.

“What for?” he asked quietly.

“Everything.” Her hands covered her face as she curled into the covers, refusing to look at him. “I let him take me. I let him -”

“You didn’t let anyone do anything,” Dean insisted, laying his hand on her shoulder. She flinched at his touch and dismay sank into his chest like a dagger. “Y/N, these things… they aren’t your fault. He hexed you, violated you -” Her sobs grew louder and Dean hesitated to touch her again. He hated the way she seemed frightened of him now the enchantment was broken. Since they’d left the campus behind, she’d been withdrawn and quiet.

The only person she seemed to speak to was Castiel.

“Y/N,” he whispered, gently taking hold of her wrist, pulling her hand away from her face. “Y/N, look at me, please.”

“You didn’t have a choice either,” she confessed, misplaced guilt strewn across her features. “The drinks - he wanted us to -” Dean jumped in surprise when she reared back, getting to her feet and running for the door. Cas appeared, leaping back to avoid colliding with her as she sprinted out of sight.

A second later, the sound of vomiting made both men cringe.

“That was unexpected,” Dean mumbled, standing up.

“I’ll go and make sure she’s okay,” Cas offered, handing over the rabbit he’d caught. The rain was beginning to ease off as the former angel disappeared again and Dean sighed, rubbing his free hand over his face.

He didn’t know how to help her heal. Finding her again was beyond his wildest dreams but Dean knew that the trauma she was experiencing was ultimately his fault. And there was no way he could make things better.

The rabbit in his hand was dripping blood onto the floor; Dean groaned.

He was sick of rabbit.

*****

They found an abandoned housing development near Sioux Falls called Valley Acres. It was like they’d come full circle when they approached the empty houses, only a few miles from the salvage yard. Dean intended to return to the house at some point, see if there was anything they could use.

Y/N was grateful for an actual bed, even more so when Dean decided they’d stay for a while. They’d been on the move for weeks and all three were exhausted, desperate for a break.

Thirteen days after they’d stopped, a storm blew in, one of the biggest Y/N had seen since the world ended. The hail was hard enough to damage the slate roofing on several houses - before it could get too bad, Cas and Dean got the horses into the garage of the house they’d been using, securing them safely.

Lightning flashed across the sky outside Y/N’s window and she shuddered, counting the seconds until the thunder struck. It was barely two  _ mississippi’s _ before the glass rattled in the frame.

“Y/N?”

Dean poked his head through the door, his hair plastered to his forehead. Y/N looked up, giving him a hesitant smile. The reaction gave him enough courage to enter the room, pushing the door until it was open a fraction.

“Thought you could use some company,” he murmured, moving to sit at the bottom of her bed. “You were always nervous during storms.”

“I don’t remember the last storm I saw,” she commented quietly, shifting under the covers.

Smirking, Dean leaned back against the wall, looking up as lightning filled the room again, thunder following it almost immediately. “I remember the storm in Colorado, when we were hunting that pack of ghouls.”

Her face screwed up in distaste. “When that crypt flooded and I ruined my favorite sweater?”

“I told you not to wear it,” he defended and Y/N smiled.

“The good old days, huh?”

Both of them fell silent, listening to the rain. Lightning and thunder happened in quick succession and Y/N hugged her knees, warily glancing at the window. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you,” Dean murmured quietly, his expression solemn as he reached over to touch her knee.

She didn’t flinch.

A soft smile curled her lips upward. “I know. You’re here.”

He nodded, daring to shift a little closer to her, sitting fully on the bed with his legs stretched out. Much to his surprise, Y/N moved, laying across the bed with her head in his lap. Dean smiled, stroking his hand over her hair.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured and she nodded, closing her eyes. Dean leaned his head against the wall, shutting his own, keeping a steady rhythm as Y/N slowly drifted off. He wasn’t going to get any rest - he was too on edge.

When he was certain he wouldn’t wake her, Dean shifted her back into the bed, pulling the covers over her sleeping form. The rain had stopped and the thunder had moved off into the distance, leaving everything soaked and darkened.

Cas was in the kitchen when he ventured downstairs. “Look what I found,” the other man grinned, holding up a bottle of cheap whiskey and some glasses.

“That’s gotta have turned,” Dean grimaced, inspecting the bottle.

“From what I understand, it only makes the alcohol more potent.”

With a smirk, Dean shook his head. “Down in one, then?” Cas poured a small amount into each glass, handing one to Dean. They shared a smile and toasted in silence, before downing the contents, both of them pulling faces at the taste. “Fuck.”

“It hasn’t gotten better with age,” Castiel grunted, looking at the bottle. “How’s Y/N?”

“Sleeping.”

“Has she talked about it?”

Dean shook his head, sighing as he dropped the glass onto the counter. “She’s quiet. Different.”

“She would be.”

“I don’t know how to help her.”

“Leaving her to wake up alone probably isn’t a good start.”

The former angel’s words made Dean frown and he looked up at his friend. “She doesn’t want me near her, Cas. Tonight is the first time she hasn’t jumped out of her skin when I touch her.”

“She’s been through a lot,” Castiel mused. “But Y/N was always very resilient. And it helps…” He caught Dean’s eye, giving him a stern look. “It helps to have someone there who loves her.”

Swallowing nervously, Dean looked away. “I don’t even know if she still feels that way.”

A smile stretched Cas’ lips and he tilted his head. “Only one way you’ll find out.”

Dean sighed again, leaning against the counter. “I pushed her away, Cas. Cheated on her. Francis… he only did what he did because I broke her. I was an asshole.”

“No one’s denying that,” Cas pointed out.

“I never got over Sam dying. Never got over losing Bobby… I took everything out on her, blamed her when it was me.” His eyes were shining with unshed tears when he looked over at the window. Dawn was starting to break through the clouds, making everything glisten. “All of this, is on me. If I’d protected Sam like I was supposed to -”

“You did your best,” Castiel interrupted, frowning. “It wasn’t just you who failed, Dean. The blame lies on all of us. But now… maybe it’s time to stop thinking about what you lost and start thinking about what you’ve still got.”

Dean sniffed, giving his friend a sidelong glance. “My guardian angel, huh, Cas?”

“Sometimes I’m useful.” The sun was rising higher in the sky and Dean turned toward the stairs. Castiel watched him, arching one eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

Flashing him a smirk, Dean pointed up. “To make sure I remember what I got.”


	13. Survive

She hadn’t slept so well in a long time. Her mind woke before her body, letting her experience the last dregs of a pleasant dream, a memory of when things weren’t so utterly fucked. Warmth cocooned her and as her eyes opened, strength flowing into her limbs, she realized the heat wasn’t coming from the covers.

Dean was in bed beside her, out cold, his body pressed up against her. One of his arms was flung over her waist and Y/N turned, coming face to face with him. He didn’t move.

It had been a long time since she’d laid like this with anyone. Since she’d been able to just look at him, memorize his features. In her time with Francis, she’d forgotten him, a fact she’d never forgive herself for. Despite the hex, she felt like she’d failed.

Y/N didn’t hold any illusions that Dean would want her to stay.

He groaned in his sleep and she smiled, unable to resist reaching up to touch his full bottom lip, giggling when he pouted in reaction. His breathing changed and his eyes fluttered open, hazy green orbs focusing on her.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, letting her hand rest between their chests. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“Didn’t want you to wake up alone.” Dean stretched, yawning widely, shifting his bottom half away from her. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly?” A smile spread over her lips. “I feel pretty good. Maybe it’s the sunshine.” She raised an eyebrow as he smirked. “Maybe it’s the company.”

The kiss took him by surprise; it was brief but heated and Dean’s pupils were blown when Y/N drew back. “What was that for?”

“I missed you,” she breathed, touching his jaw with her fingertips. “I forgot for a while but -”

Dean shook his head. “You didn’t forget,” he hummed, brushing his nose against the tip of hers. “I pushed you away. And I don’t know how I’m ever gonna make it up to you.” He sighed, closing his eyes - Y/N laughed under her breath.

“How did we get here?”

“Sheer stupidity,” he retorted, lifting one hand to tangle his fingers in her hair. “I love your hair this long.”

“No need to keep it short anymore,” Y/N shrugged. She leaned in again, capturing his lips and Dean groaned, feeling her tongue seek entrance to his mouth. He granted it, letting her push him onto his back, the heat of her body making him hard.

“Y/N,” he grunted, “you don’t have to -”

“I want to,” she insisted, straddling his lap. There was no hiding his reaction to her, the thick outline of his cock pressing between her thighs. She’d only slept in panties and a thin vest, the humidity of the storm making it unbearable to wear too much. “Dean -”

He groaned as she rocked herself against him, sliding his hands up her bare thighs. “That night… I didn’t…”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled, leaning over him, kissing him again. “Neither of us was in control.” Tilting his chin up, Dean looked her in the eye, still uncertain; she smiled, laying her palm against his cheek softly. “You saved me that night. Made me remember. If you hadn’t broken the hex…”

“I wouldn’t have let him do it,” Dean promised, both hands cradling her head, kissing her desperately. His reluctance crumbled away as he tried to reassure her with his touch. “I’ll never let anything happen to you again, I promise.”

Y/N smiled, kissing him back, reaching between their bodies to push down the waistband of his boxers. His cock twitched when her warm fingers surrounded him and Dean groaned, his hips lifting of their own accord. The movement made it easier for her to push his boxers out of the way and she relinquished her hold on him to push her panties down.

Her heat covered him in the next second and Dean grabbed her ass in his hands, watching her line him up with her soaked entrance.

The connection was intense enough to force his eyes closed, every sense he owned heightened as he felt her sink down onto him. It was almost like they’d never been apart - her body accepted him easily, her slick walls contracting as she struggling not to go too fast.

“Fuck,” Dean moaned, sliding his hands from her ass to her thighs as she settled on his lap, his cock buried snug against her cervix.

Y/N whined, bracing her weight with her hands on either side of his head. They were too close not to kiss, both of them moving at the same time, the sounds they made muffled by their continuous kiss. When she lifted, Dean cursed again, digging his fingers into her soft skin.

“Do that again,” he pleaded; she smiled, repeating the action, watching the bliss spread across his face.

Dean let her set the pace, giving her full control as she chased her end. She tossed her head back, her fingers sliding over his - when he lifted them from her thighs, their fingers laced together automatically.

Her climax came swiftly and he caught her when she fell, her soft cries ebbing out as she tried to catch her breath. Dean held her close, trying not to growl in pleasure at the feeling of her wet pussy squeezing him with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“When we were together,” Y/N whispered, “that night. You asked if he knew I was yours first.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, stroking her hair back as she lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“I was only ever yours,” she confessed, reaching up with one hand to touch his cheek, running her thumb over his bottom lip. “There was no first or last, it was just… you.” Dean exhaled heavily, capturing her in a kiss, his fingers sliding through her hair.

She kissed back hungrily, squeaking in surprise when he rolled her onto her back, not breaking their contact. Her hands gripped his shoulders; Dean looked down at her, a gentle smile on his lips. “I love you.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, rolling his hips to make her pull the cute little “o” face he’d missed so much. Her nails dug into his skin and when he kissed her again, she hummed into his mouth, meeting him stroke for stroke.

When she came again, Dean couldn't hold back. The pressure of her cunt squeezing his cock was too much - he buried his mouth against her throat, holding her close as he spilled into her. Y/N moaned, the sound hoarse as she came down from her high.

“Does this mean you’re going to stay?” he asked, balancing his weight on his forearms as he remained where he was, unwilling to part from her warmth.

Y/N’s lips curved into a wide smile. “I guess it does,” she teased. “But you’re cooking breakfast.”

*****

Six weeks later, and their little group of three had increased by a few more. The housing development had been well hidden and was easy to defend - but the supplies were low. It seemed like every trip they made out to scavenge food and medicine brought them another survivor in need of help.

Dean was wary, grilling every stranger incessantly, until Y/N stepped in, telling him that they had to have faith in people, or the world might as well have burned. They were careful now, testing every individual they came across, and so far, they’d all be normal.

Now, their group included two families with young children, an older lady and her teenage son, a former sheriff and an army medic who’d been stranded when his unit was destroyed.

Slowly, they were building something. Putting a life together.

In more ways than one.

The nausea Y/N had experienced on their escape from the campus had reared its head again more than once and with the help of a stolen and very out-of-date pregnancy test, that she confirmed her suspicions.

She had to tell Dean.

“Cas?”

The former angel had remained sharing the house with them, turning the garage into a proper stable for the horses. He was handy with tools and picked up carpentry and a variety of other helpful skills quickly, showing Dean what he’d learned. Between them, the house was secure and so were many of the other houses now being occupied.

“Hey, Y/N,” Castiel greeted, putting down the axe he’d been using to chop firewood in the backyard. “Everything okay?”

“Have you seen Dean?”

“He’s out in the pasture with the horse he caught last week.”

“Thanks,” she rushed out, turning to head back through the house but Castiel called after her, making her look back over her shoulder.

Narrowed blue eyes regarded her carefully. “You’re okay, right?”

Could he tell? She wasn’t sure just how much angel mojo Cas had retained. With a smile, she nodded. “I’m really good, Cas. I promise.” The answer seemed to satisfy him and Y/N jogged through the house and out into the street, turning left to head up to the fenced-off field at the top of the row of houses.

Dean was shirtless, sweating in the summer heat as he ran the horse round. It wasn’t something she’d ever envisioned him doing but now, watching him… he was a natural.

And he looked damn good doing it.

“Come on, Betty,” Dean urged, letting her circle him nervously. She dodged him when he reached out, trotting away to the far end of the field, ignoring him completely. He grunted with irritation, wiping the back of his hand across his sweaty brow.

“All you need is the leather chaps and a hat,” Y/N teased, leaning against the fence. Dean’s gaze turned to her, a wide smile splitting his face in two. He walked toward her, casting a wary eye at the black horse grazing in complete ignorance of what he was trying to do.

“She’s a work in progress,” he excused, leaning over to kiss her on the lips. Bending down, Dean climbed through the fence. “Everything okay?”

Y/N nodded, slipping her hands over his bare shoulders. “Everything is great,” she whispered, pushing up onto her tiptoes. “But we might need to think about sorting out the third room in the house.”

He tilted his head in confusion. “Why?”

Taking hold of his hand, Y/N dragged it down to her belly, smiling up at him. “We weren’t exactly careful.” His eyes went wide and he looked down at where his hand sat. “Surprise?”

“Shit,” he murmured, his tone indiscernible. Y/N felt panic in her chest, suddenly unsure how he was going to react. “You’re… we’re…”

Dean dropped to his knees, framing her belly with his hands and she sniffed back tears, smiling uncontrollably. Pressing his nose just above her navel, Dean made a happy little sound. “You’re okay with this?” Y/N asked, needing to know.

He looked up at her with eyes full of adoration. “Hell yeah, I’m okay with this,” he exclaimed, getting to his feet and kissing her breathless. “You’re amazing.”

“We both had a part in it.”

“Doesn’t stop you being amazing.” He kissed her nose, grinning. “One thing though…”

“What?”

“Names?”

Y/N touched his face, smiling softly. “Boy or girl, it’s gonna be Sam.”


	14. The Wolves Of Winter

He moved quietly through the undergrowth, watching his quarry ahead in the trees. The deer’s ear flicked back and Dean went still, lifting the bow slowly, pulling the arrow back without making a sound. It flew easily from the string, hitting the deer in the flank, piercing its hide and its heart, killing it instantly.

The deer dropped like a stone, limbs twitching in the final throes of death as Dean stood straight, stomping over the plants now he had no need to be quiet. Retrieving the arrow, he sheathed his weapon, sliding his hands under the carcass and hefting it onto his shoulder.

Black Betty was tied to a tree a mile or so behind, enjoying the freshly growing spring clovers in the grass. She whinnied softly when Dean patted her rump, reassuring her of his presence before he loaded the dead deer onto her back.

Taking hold of her reins, Dean soothed her as she made a fuss over the weight. “Hush, sweetheart,” he muttered, stroking one hand down the length of her muzzle, “let’s get home.”

The mare calmed when it became apparent her master intended on walking and she huffed softly, knocking her nose against his shoulder, prompting Dean to smile. It wasn’t far to go, only a few miles, and the afternoon sun made it quite pleasant.

When he reached the outer perimeter of Valley Acres, Dean waved at Matthew, sat in the guardpost they’d built into the trees. It was rare anyone stumbled across their little spot in the new world but Dean wasn’t taking any chances.

Not when he knew what was still out there.

After dropping the deer carcass at the kitchens, Dean led Betty back to the stables, giving her a quick rub down as she munched on fresh hay. Once he was done, it was starting to grow dark; he secured Betty in her stall and headed back out onto the street.

They didn’t live in the original house they’d claimed when they’d first come here ten years ago. When Castiel had finally made a connection, be it with every single woman who turned up, Dean had decided it was time to stop having roommates.

Their house was beyond the fields, on the other side of the settlement. As he passed one of the empty pastures, he spotted Cas, holding one of his open-air meditation sessions. Dean waved at his old friend, receiving a wave in return, but Dean knew better than to even try and talk to him when he was into his hippy shit.

Bobby-John’s giggle echoed across the open front of the house and Dean emerged from the trees separating the houses from the fields, smiling as he saw his youngest son racing around the yard, chasing Buck, their black Labrador. At three, the kid was a tiny tornado, destroying pretty much anything he could get his hands on.

Y/N was watching from the porch, her bare legs stretched out in front of her, hands folded over her belly. Dean hadn’t expected this one either - as someone who’d never considered kids, he was surprised at how happy he was every time Y/N said they’d slipped up again.

It was hard to avoid when there wasn’t much contraception around.

Their close knit community made it easier. Y/N would constantly repeat the phrase “it takes a village to raise a child”; Dean would normally laugh at that and remind her that he wasn’t after a football team.

He kinda hoped this one was a girl.

Y/N got to her feet, smiling as Dean walked up the steps, Bobby-John instantly tearing after him and Buck not far behind. The dog yapped, happy to see his master - since Dean had fished him out of a river, he’d been the most loyal friend a guy could ask for.

“Hey,” he greeted, kissing Y/N softly. Reaching down, he ruffled Bobby-John’s hair and then petted Buck, who barked, and proceeded to chase his own tail.

“Daddy! Up!” Bobby-John demanded, chubby hands grabbing at his pants. Dean swooped down, picking the little boy and hoisting him into the air. He squealed happily, flinging his arms around his father’s neck.

Dean laughed, looking around for his eldest son. “Where’s Sammy?”

“Out in the woods again. I think little Bobby was driving him crazy all day.”

“Sammy is grumpy,” Bobby-John announced, making both his parents chuckle. He squirmed and Dean let him down, watching as he ran off to chase Buck around one more.

“Would you mind getting Sam in for dinner?” Y/N asked, wincing as she was pummeled internally. “Your latest spawn is using my bladder as a bounce house.” Dean tried not to laugh, leaning in to kiss her cheek, his hand groping her ass hard enough to make her squeak. “Dean!”

“What? Not my fault you’re hot.”

“Shut up and go find our son.”

Dean bowed his head, backing off of the porch and heading around to the backyard. Beyond these houses was about 70 miles of woodland but Sammy had grown up playing here and knew it better than anyone.

“Sammy!” he called, stepping into shade of the trees, looking for any signs of his eldest son. “Your mom’s serving dinner!”

There was a rustle above his head and Dean turned, his instincts still sharp. He may have been greying at the temples but he was still a hunter, and he knew he was being watched.

“C’mon, Sam!” Dean yelled again.

Another rustle, this time from behind him.

Spinning on his heel, he blocked the attack as the small shape landed on him but he wasn’t stopping the weight of it dropping him to the ground. Sammy giggled, pinning his father, who glared up at him. “You’re getting worse,” the ten-year-old pointed out.

“Maybe. But I’m old,” Dean retorted. “Get off.”

The kid was still laughing as he got to his feet, offering a hand to his downed parent. Dean took it, brushing himself down as Sammy kept grinning. “Where were you today?”

“Hunting,” Dean replied. “Caught a deer.”

Sammy pulled a face, one that reminded Dean so much of his brother. But it didn’t hurt to see the familiar features on his son anymore - he was only grateful. Grateful for what he had, and grateful his brother’s memory lived on. “I hate deer.”

“Well, I dunno what your mom is serving up tonight, but you better go get your ass washed up for supper.” Dean reached out, missing Sammy’s shoulder by an inch as he darted away.

“I’m gonna tell mom you said ‘ass’,” the boy taunted, running off ahead of his father. Dean laughed, giving chase, following him through the yard and snatching Bobby-John on the way into the house. The toddler screeched in protest before he saw the fresh biscuits on the table and his eyes went wide with hunger.

“Iscuits!” he screamed, barely held back by Dean’s strong grip.

“Wash up first,” Y/N instructed, placing a jug of gravy on the table. The two boys sprinted off, fighting to get to the bathroom first and Dean smiled widely, moving to grab Y/N around the waist. She yelped in surprise but smiled, turning in his hold. “What has gotten into you?”

“Just feeling good,” Dean murmured, kissing her softly. “I’m one hell of a lucky man.”

Y/N tapped his nose playfully. “You’re doing good, Winchester. Doing good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading along with this series! I really appreciate any feedback you have and thank you again!


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